Before the Dawn
by Diana Silver
Summary: Being one of the few honest cops in Gotham had never been easy. But with Loeb dead, SWAT gone rogue, and eight assassins wreaking havoc across the city, things just got a hell of a lot harder. Some days, Laura Anderson really hated her job.
1. Breakout at Blackgate

" _The citizens of Gotham City can rest easy, knowing that tonight, we put to rest one of Gotham's most heinous and relentless killers – Julian Gregory Day."_

The commissioner's voice rang out over the courtyard in front of Gotham City's Blackgate Prison, reporters huddled in front of the podium set up on the prison's steps hanging on to every word spoken. Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb, a smug expression on his face, looked triumphantly into the gathered cameras, relishing in the spotlight. The capture of Day, dubbed 'The Calendar Man' by Gotham's media, was a major success for the GCPD, and as the city's police commissioner, Loeb was the main focus for both the credit for the capture, and the public's fervent gratitude. Surrounded by loyal officers and sycophantic supporters, the commissioner felt like he was king of the world.

At least, until the reporters started asking questions.

"Commissioner Loeb! Commissioner Loeb - any comments on the rumor that it wasn't actually the police who captured Mr. Day? That the credit belongs to the vigilante Bat-Man?"

Sneering, the commissioner turned his back on the podium and began walking towards the prison doors. He wasn't in the mood for ridiculous questions, especially on the eve of one of the greatest achievements in his career. Costumed freak or not, Day was a dead man; it was only a matter of getting that psycho in the chamber, and Loeb would be free to bask in the gratitude of Gotham's citizenry, and maybe make it to his sister's Christmas party later that night. Before the massive steel doors of Blackgate Penitentiary shut behind him, the commissioner heard Captain James Gordon take up the podium to address the eager crowd.

" _There is no such thing as a 'Bat-Man'."_

It would be the last friendly voice Gillian B. Loeb ever heard

-I-

Some days, Laura Anderson really hated her job.

Not to say she hated it all the time. On the contrary, Laura quite enjoyed working in the Homicide Division of the New Gotham Precinct, despite the numerous challenges involved; the other officers, even those under her command, rarely took her seriously. As one of the few in the precinct not on Sionis or Cobblepot's payroll, she had very little real power within the department, and they knew it. Despite the difficulties it caused, she had a job to do, and no one was going to keep her from doing it, Sionis and Cobblepot be damned.

Even so, freezing to death outside Blackgate Penitentiary wasn't exactly how Laura imagined she'd be spending her Christmas Eve.

"It's like fucking Antarctica out here. I swear, it's like someone's hoping we'll freeze."

Laura snorted as she looked up, surprised to see a steaming cup of coffee held out towards her. Her eyes followed the outstretched arm to the smiling face of Ben McKenzie, looking at her expectantly. Shooting him a grateful smile, she took the cup.

Detective Benjamin McKenzie was new to the GCPD, having recently transferred from New York, and was as idealistic as they came. Determined to clean up Gotham, the man hadn't done himself any favors by openly denouncing Roman Sionis and making no secret of his disgust of the GCPD's rampant corruption. He refused to give in to pressure, challenged those who threatened him, and did his best to put criminals behind bars despite the hurdles his higher-ups put in his way. The man was painting a target on his back, and if he didn't watch it, he'd end up dead before Easter.

Needless to say, he was Laura's favorite employee.

"You might be onto something there." She joked, taking a sip out of the Styrofoam cup. She hated coffee, but it was too cold a night to turn down a hot drink.

McKenzie shook his head, leaning against the side of the nearby police cruiser. "Me? Maybe. But Loeb couldn't get rid of you if he tried. Not with that stunt you pulled last year."

Laura rolled her eyes. "That again? Really? It wasn't that big of a deal."

"So, that Vicki Vale article was nothing, then? 'Hero Cop Saves Mayor's Daughter'?"

"That was the most exaggerated news article I've ever read in my life," Laura scoffed. "Vale should stick to covering Bruce Wayne's love life. And yes, it was nothing special. I walked in, shot the guy, and walked out, just like anyone else would have. The only reason it even made the news was because it was Hill's kid."

McKenzie just shook his head, taking a sip of his own coffee with a disbelieving 'Uh-huh'. Letting it go, Laura leaned up against the door of the cruiser, staring up at Blackgate's massive steel doors.

"How long does it take to die by gas chamber anyways?"

McKenzie shrugged. "Two, three minutes. Why?"

Frowning, Laura glanced at her watch. "Because Loeb left for the chamber half an hour ago. Someone should have been back to prep the cruisers by now."

McKenzie straightened up, hand unconsciously reaching for his sidearm. "You think something went wrong?"

"Only one way to find out."

Laura scrolled through the contacts on her phone, hurriedly tapping the one labeled 'Gordon'. Bringing the phone up to her ear, Laura chewed on her lip as she listened to it ring.

" _You've reached James Gordon. Leave a message at the tone."_

"Gordon's not picking up." Laura grimaced, hand on her own gun and heading towards the entrance.

Pushing open the door, Laura stepped into Blackgate's main foyer, McKenzie falling into step behind her. Upon taking in the state of the room, she immediately unholstered her weapon.

"Damn."

-I-

Blackgate's western entrance was in shambles. The doorway looked like it had been ripped apart, exposed wires now draped across the ground, sparking wildly, while the sign that once hung overhead was now knocked askew, blocking part of the doorway. The twisted remnants of the door itself was warped out of shape, bent inwards as if some massive force had forced it in on itself. Bruce Wayne took very little notice of this, instead focused on maneuvering his way through the debris and into the prison.

The inside of the building was no better, concrete walls smashed, metal gates ripped apart, and every now and again, massive claw marks gouged into the walls. Bodies of guards and prisoners alike littered the halls, some crushed beneath debris, others partially flattened as if smashed against the walls, and still others bleeding out onto the floor, nearly ripped apart by an unknown assailant.

 _What the hell could have done this?_ Bruce wondered, taking in the sight. _It couldn't have been human._ Shaking his head, he continued on, ducking under some debris and moving towards some voices up ahead. He'd find out soon enough, of that he was sure.

"He said he'd leave my family alone if I did what he asked!"

"I hope he keeps his word. Thing is, you ain't gonna live to find out. Sorry, Warden, Black Mask can't leave no loose ends lyin' around."

Bruce watched as Warden Joseph backed away from the masked assailant before him, hands outstretched and pleading.

"No, please!"

The masked man was unmoved, taking a swing at the warden with his baseball bat and knocking him to the ground.

"Oh, I'll kill ya all right. But by the time I do, that eye won't be the only thing you're missin'."

Bruce stepped out of the shadows, moving towards the two men. Warden Joseph spotted him, an expression of terror forming on his face, and began to scurry backwards, forcing himself up against the wall.

"What is that?! Behind you!"

"Oh, come on! 'spect me to fall for that? I mean, try somethin' original you-"

The man's head snapped up, taking notice of the bat-shaped shadow on the wall before him, quickly turning around and taking a swing with the bat. Bruce quickly caught it, wrenching the weapon out of the man's grasp before rendering him unconscious. Turning back to the warden, Bruce was forced to block an incoming blow from a metal pipe and subdued the man before he could do any real damage. The warden quickly scuttled backwards, trying to put as much space as possible between himself and the masked vigilante.

"I'd heard the rumors, but…you…you're not supposed to be real!"

"Who tore this place apart?" Bruce demanded, ignoring the warden's incredulous gaping.

Before he could answer, an inhuman roar sounded from deeper inside the prison, echoing through Blackgate's halls. Turning back towards Warden Joseph, the man quickly shook his head.

"I don't know what it is – it's huge."

"Where is Black Mask?"

"I-I don't know." He stuttered. "He's here for Commissioner Loeb. Maybe one of his men knows where he's headed."

Turning his back on the cowering man, Bruce headed towards the massive steel door, determined to confront whoever, or whatever, was tearing Blackgate apart.

He just hoped he'd get to Loeb before it did.

-I-

"What the hell was that?"

Laura turned to McKenzie, seeing his gaze focused down the hall, towards the origin of the massive roar.

"No idea." Laura admitted, "But it didn't sound human."

Turning back towards the computer, Laura focused once again on the screen before her. The two had stumbled onto a security office about mid-way to the execution chamber, and rather than go in guns blazing, had decided to wait a moment and try and figure out what was going on. A task that was proving rather difficult.

"Any luck with the security cameras?"

"No," Laura answered, flicking through dead security feed after dead feed. "Most of the cameras near the chamber seem to have been destroyed. I've still got a few more, but don't hold your breath. Anyone coming?"

"Not yet," McKenzie answered, eyes focused on the hall, "But this is one of the only ways out. We won't be alone for long."

Suddenly, the screen changed from its constant static, finally able to connect to a still-intact camera.

"McKenzie!"

Turning towards the screen, the two watched as a crowd of inmates surrounded a man in a white suit with a grinning skull mask worn over his face. A security officer was thrown into the circle by the cheering inmates, the man quickly scrambling to get on his feet. The crowd parted, and a massive, reptilian-looking man walked onto the screen, pointed teeth bared in a grotesque version of a smile. Laura quickly turned up the volume on the computer.

" _They say crime doesn't pay,"_ Black Mask's voice filtered in. _"-But someone oughtta check the good police commissioner's pockets,"_

The reptile-man seized the security officer by the throat, slamming him down onto the steel floor of the holding chamber, surely breaking his spine, if not killing him. Out of her peripherals, Laura saw McKenzie flinch.

"' _cause they're LINED with MY money."_ Black Mask turned to face Loeb, who was squirming in the reptile-man's grip. _"And what have I got to show for it? My own men in the slammer? Not no more. No. Tonight – we're making some changes! Some big changes."_

Loeb was shoved forward by the massive man towards one of the prison's large mechanical doors, out of the room and out of the camera's sight. With a jolt, the sergeant realized where that hallway led.

The execution chamber.

Turning away from the computer, Laura glanced at her partner.

"We need to get to the execution chamber. Now."

McKenzie looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "And do what? We're outnumbered, have no backup, and if you didn't notice, they have an _eight foot tall crocodile man_. What the hell are we supposed to do? _Rambo_ our way out of there?"

"We can't just do nothing!" Laura snapped, heading towards the door. "Loeb's an asshole, but we can't just let him die. Gordon and his men are probably already on their way to the chamber. More like than not, we'll meet them there, hopefully before Black Mask does."

Sighing, McKenzie started down the hallway behind her. "I really hope you know what you're doing, boss."

Too focused on the task ahead, he didn't hear her mutter under her breath.

"You and me both."

-I-

" _Any inmates with information on the whereabouts of Commissioner Loeb or Black Mask, please come forward immediately. I've received confirmation from Warden Joseph that you WILL be rewarded for information that leads to an arrest."_

"Don't tell me ya think that'll actually work?"

Captain James Gordon turned away from the prison's intercom system and towards to his partner, feeling the beginnings of a migraine forming.

"Probably not, but it's worth a try."

Harvey Bullock just snorted, turning to watch the GCPD officers and prison security guards scuttle in and out of the makeshift command room.

Sighing, Gordon leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. It'd been a long night, even before Loeb got captured, and now it was turning into an absolute nightmare. Half the inmates at Blackgate were on the loose, and it'd be even worse if any of them managed to get out of the building. With the snowstorm outside worsening by the minute, any efforts to recapture the criminals before they could do any real damage would be hindered, giving them ample time to hide in the many nooks and crannies of Gotham City.

Feeling something shift in his pocket, Gordon reached in and pulled out his work phone. Frowning, he flipped it open, seeing the display light up with three missed calls. Two were from Barbara, who, according to the voicemails, was still safe in his office at the New Gotham Precinct. The third, however, was from one of his officers, Laura Anderson.

Frowning, he quickly dialed the number and waited for the sergeant to pick up.

" _Gordon! Jesus, I was starting to think something happened."_

"I'm fine. Anderson, where the hell are you?"

" _In the South Wing, with McKenzie. We figured something went wrong when no one came back to prep the cruisers. Where are you?"_

"Warden Joseph's office," Gordon replied. "We haven't found Loeb yet, but we set up a temporary HQ here. The two of you, make your way over here immediately."

There was a pause on the other end before Anderson finally answered. _"Gordon, we were able to get a hold of one of the security feeds. Black Mask's got Loeb. They're heading to the execution chamber."_

"Damn it!" He snarled, running a hand over his face. "Fine, you and McKenzie make your way to the chamber. We'll meet you there. Try and stop Sionis if you can, but don't do anything stupid. We've lost enough people tonight."

" _Will do."_ He heard her reply. _"But be careful, Gordon. Black Mask's got a new guy with him, some big bruiser. An eight foot tall crocodile man."_

In the midst of checking his weapon, Gordon paused, sure he'd misheard the sergeant.

"When you say 'crocodile man'…"

" _I mean he's green, scaly, and got teeth the size of my fingers."_

"Damn it."

-I-

"Part of me wants to just flip that switch. But it is Christmas Eve…and he is the Calendar Man…and that's just too perfect to ignore."

Crawling through Blackgate's air vents, Bruce heard Black Mask's voice filtering up from below. Sliding down one final shaft, he landed in the observation room, looking out onto the scene before him. Loeb was sprawled on the floor, looking up at Black Mask, while Julian Day was making his way out of the chamber, a smile on his face. The reptile monster was hovering just behind the group, simultaneously blocking any escape attempt Loeb might make and getting the best view for the execution that was about to come.

"What's all this about Sionis?" Loeb asked, giving diplomacy one last-ditch attempt. "Haven't I always come through for you?"

"You may have Gillian," Black Mask replied as the lizard-man hauled the commissioner to his feet, "But things have…changed. We're starting with a clean slate – and you're not on it."

Loeb's face twisted, more in anger than fear. "What are you talking about? I'm not on it? After all I've done for you…!"

Bruce pounded against the glass in vain as two of Sionis' goons dragged Loeb into the gas chamber, sealing him in. Loeb threw himself against the chamber's door as the poison gas began to filter in.

"You can't do this! I'm the police commissioner, dammit!"

Sionis turned his back on the dying commissioner as he began to cough and sputter.

"Show's over, boys. Let's go."

On his way out, the crocodile knocked one of Black Mask's men back into the observation window, cracking it. As the door shut behind the group of criminals, Bruce dove into the window, finally able to break through. Making his way to the chamber's small glass viewing port, the vigilante looked in, hoping to see a trace of life in Gillian Loeb's body. Finding none, he turned to face the group of criminals who'd wandered in, probably hoping to watch the commissioner's execution. Quickly dispatching them, Bruce raced down the hall towards Black Mask and his goons.

Sionis had a lot to answer for, and he would pay for it. Tonight.

-I-

" _Anderson! The gas chamber's been engaged! How far are you from the execution chamber?"_

"Not far," Laura said into her phone, sprinting down the hall. "We'll be there in less than a minute."

A huge crash sounded from the far end of the wing, the vibration causing the two officers to stumble. Shaking it off, they resumed their course for the execution chamber. McKenzie, out in front, paused for a moment outside the room. Laura took no notice, rushing in and heading for the gas chamber. Peering in, she sighed as she spotted the commissioner's lifeless body lying on the chamber's floor.

"Gordon, it's too late. Loeb's dead."

Momentarily turning away from the sound of her superior cursing, Laura noticed McKenzie still out in the hall, staring at the far end of the wing.

"McKenzie, the hell are you looking at?"

"There's someone there." He answered, turning to her. "Before we walked in, there was someone at the end of the hall."

"Who?"

"No idea." McKenzie shrugged, still peering at the end of the wing. "Some guy. Big, muscular, dressed in black. Shot something up at the ceiling and disappeared."

"He shot something at the ceiling and disappeared?" Laura repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey, I know what I saw. I never said it made sense."

" _Anderson! Anderson, are you still there?"_

Shaking her head, she turned back to the phone. "Yeah, Gordon, sorry. What's wrong?"

" _Black Mask and his men are heading towards the roof. They've got a helicopter, and we need to cut them off. Bullock and I will meet you there, but you need to hurry!"_

"Well, looks like we might get to meet your mystery man after all." Laura stated, turning to McKenzie. The two made their way towards the end of the hall, sighing as they saw whole sections of the staircase had been destroyed.

"Looks like we're taking the long way."

-I-

"What the hell took the two a' ya so long?"

McKenzie turned to Detective Bullock, grimacing.

"The stairs were destroyed on the East Wing. We had to find another way around."

"It doesn't matter," Gordon snapped, turning to the three of them. "We're all here now. Now, help me find a way to get this door open."

The door in question had been sealed shut, likely by Black Mask's men to cover their escape. They panel on the side of the door had been smashed, preventing the access code from being entered, and the door itself was too heavy to be broken down. They were short on time, and even shorter on options.

Laura frowned a moment, pressing herself against the right side of the door.

"You might want to stand back."

Taking out her gun, Laura took aim at the door's hinges, preparing to fire. While the bullets themselves were not enough to break the hinges clean off, they did damage them enough so that with a few well-placed kicks, the hinges broke off and the door fell open onto the prison's roof. Rushing out onto the roof, the four officers looked around for Black Mask and his crew. They were too late for Sionis, the helicopter already disappearing into the distance, but what they did find made them bear their sidearms all the same.

On the far end of the roof, the reptilian man who'd helped kill Loeb was lying unconscious, barely far enough from the edge to keep him from falling into Gotham Bay. Standing over him was a large, muscular man in some sort of armored suit. A black cowl obscured his face, while the attached cape billowed around him in the freezing wind. The large symbol emblazoned on his chest left little doubt as to who this man was.

 _So THIS is the Bat-Man_ , Laura mused.

"Freeze!" Bullock shouted, seemingly over his initial shock. Gordon and McKenzie turned the lights on their guns, shining them right at the masked man and blocking any route to the door. He raised an arm to cover his eyes, momentarily blinded by the light.

"Hold it right there!"

The man lowered his arms, backing up towards the roof's edge.

"I'm taking you in," Gordon stated, stepping towards the man.

Backing up further, the Bat-Man simply shook his head. "Not tonight." With that, he took one final step off the roof, and plummeted towards the bay.

Rushing towards the edge, Laura peered down before jumping back in surprise. A small black aircraft rose to the roof's level, the Bat-Man walking along the top. Climbing into the cockpit, the vigilante took one last look at the officers crowded near the roof's edge before rocketing off towards the city limits.

Gun lowered, Bullock turned to his partner.

"No such thing as a Bat-Man, eh?"

Gordon just shook his head, heading back towards the stairs.

Turning to McKenzie, Laura saw him still staring in the direction the plane disappeared, mouth hanging open in awe.

"Well, Ben, looks like you weren't hallucinating after all. Congratulations, you spotted the Bat-Man." She snorted, putting a hand on his shoulder.

She heard Bullock scoff behind her.

"Costumed freaks, prison breaks, fuckin' lizard people…I ain't paid enough for this shit."


	2. Shadow of the Bat

**Author's Note:** Thank you guys so much for your warm response to Before the Dawn! I wasn't expecting so many favorites and followers after only one chapter. Please review, I'd love to hear your opinions and field any questions you guys might have about the story or any of its characters. Or, if you prefer, message me, and I'll be more than happy to converse!

Fun Fact: As Lexigirl23 pointed out in her review, Detective McKenzie is named after the actor who plays Jim Gordon in the show _Gotham_. This was actually completely unintentional, as I could not come up with a name for said character, and used the name 'Ben McKenzie' as a placeholder when writing the first drafts. I meant to go back and change the name later, but at that point, I had gotten so attached to the name, I could not picture this character being called anything else, and the placeholder name stuck.

* * *

 _"_ _Police and emergency services are urging Gotham residents to stay off the roads and in their homes tonight in light of the severe winter storm warning. Snow accumulations tonight are expected to be 5 to 8 inches, with winds of up to 50 miles per hour. Radar reports show the storm moving northeast…"_

"Well, we'll certainly be getting a white Christmas this year."

Laura snorted, gazing out the passenger side window of the police cruiser. Gotham's streets were uncharacteristically desolate, the layers of snow and ice on the roads warding off most of the city's usual nighttime traffic. In any other city, the winter weather coupled with the bright Christmas lights strung along the city's streets would have looked pretty.

In Gotham, they just looked sinister.

"No kidding. It'll be a miracle if I can get my car through this mess tonight."

McKenzie smirked. "The way tonight's going, we'll be lucky if we-"

 _"_ _Dispatch to Delta 4-8."_ The radio crackled to life, cutting off the detective.

"This is Delta 4-8, over." Laura responded, picking up the mic to the cruiser's radio.

 _"_ _Respond to 43 Callow Street, at the GCR tower near Cale-Anderson Pharmaceuticals. Break-in, 4 suspects, all formerly armed."_

Laura frowned at the radio, ignoring McKenzie's muttering from the driver's seat as he swung the car around back towards Coventry. "Formerly?"

 _"_ _Affirmative."_ The dispatcher confirmed. _"Suspects have been subdued and are awaiting detainment."_

"Copy, dispatch. We're on our way."

"Who do you think took them down? Doesn't sound like GCPD."

Laura turned back towards the cruiser's window, shaking her head.

"No idea. But we're about to find out."

-II-

"Sorry, come again?"

The man sitting in front of Laura, a scrawny, shivering Gotham Optics technician, huffed at the sergeant's look of disbelief.

"It was a bat. A huge, man-sized bat. It came down from the ceiling and attacked the guy, then flew away."

A second technician scoffed, sneering at his co-worker. "Don't be an idiot, Jerry." He turned towards the two officers. "It was a guy, not some bat-monster. Huge dude, all decked out in tactical gear an' shit. Military-lookin' stuff, you know? Dude even had a fuckin' cape. Came out through the vents and did some kung fu move or somethin', knocked out the guy who had me in one hit."

Laura ignored McKenzie, whose head had perked up at the mention of the mystery man. "And then what happened?"

The technician shrugged. "He told me to call the cops and get myself outta there, and just crawled back into the vents."

"He went up to the tower."

McKenzie turned to face the third technician, who had been silent since their arrival. "What do you mean?"

"The guy in the armored suit. He went up towards tower's control panel." The tech replied. "Don't know what he wanted up there, but that's where he went."

Laura turned to one of the other officers on the scene. "Finish getting their statements. I'll be right back."

Turning her back on the technicians, Laura headed towards the radio tower's stairs, McKenzie close behind.

"You think it's him? The Bat-Man?"

Laura snorted. "I'd hope so. If there's more than one guy running around Gotham in a bat costume tonight, we're in for a world of trouble."

-II-

Jezebel Plaza looked like something out of a Christmas special. The open-air shopping plaza was covered in a thick layer of snow, the holiday lights dangling from the glazed glass ceiling bathing the area in a soft, warm glow. A picturesque, if cliché, depiction of the North Pole, complete with colorfully wrapped presents, life-size gingerbread houses, and two large firs flanking an ornate throne dominated the center of the Plaza. It was every small child's Christmas dream, save for the thug in a worn Santa hat lounging on said throne, an armed guard on either side of him warily watching the group of newcomers approach from Phoenicia Street.

"Guys!" The thug laughed, leaning forward in his seat. "So, little boys – what do you want for Christmas?"

Before any of the newcomers could answer, the thug, nicknamed 'Loose Lips' by his comrades, flashed them a crooked grin and leaned back on the throne, gesturing for his guards to begin distributing the contraband they'd brought. "Oh wait, I already know."

The guard to his right opened a briefcase, hoisting it high enough for the men gathered to get a glimpse at its contents; a military-grade sniper rife. Without a word, one of the newcomers tossed a briefcase at the thug on the throne, moving forward to begin assembling the rifle for inspection. Loose Lips took no notice, preoccupied with his end of the exchange.

"Now let's see if you've been naughty or….oh! Oh ho ho! Nice." He laughed, face illuminated by the unmistakable glint of gold.

Unbeknownst to the group, they were being watched, a lone figure perched on an overlooking gargoyle sneering in disgust at the exchange. Oblivious, the group continued on, even as the figure launched itself off its perch and began to glide through the air towards them.

"Where's the rest of 'em?"

"Easy, tiger. When you deal with us, you're dealing with the Penguin. This ain't some fly-by-night operation."

"Let's see 'em then. I didn't come all the way down here for just one-"

The man never got to finish his sentence, as two heavy boots planted themselves into his back, sending him flying forward and into one of Penguin's men. Panicking, the men scrambled to fight back, only to find themselves quickly and thoroughly dispatched by the unknown assailant. Within moments, all were unconscious, save for Loose Lips who was kneeling in the snow, hands raised above his head in a gesture of surrender.

"Don't, don't! Whatever you're goin' to do – don't!"

Suddenly grabbed and tossed on the throne, the thug could only gape at the armored man before him. Flinching and attempting to shield himself with the briefcase of ill-gotten gold, the man screamed when he was violently kicked through the North Pole display, landing on his back as the man in black grabbed him by the throat and held him two feet off the ground

"Where's the Penguin?"

Chocking and sputtering, Loose Lips tried to speak, the armored man's iron grip making it difficult.

"I don't know!"

Clearly unbelieving, the man in black tightened his grip and hoisted the thug higher.

"Where is he?!"

"I…swear…" The criminal coughed out, before promptly passing out in the armored man's grip.

When he came to, the first thing Loose Lips noticed was the sound of a man's voice impatiently telling him to wake up. The second was that wherever he was, it was very windy and very cold.

With a start, the man began screaming, realizing he was being dangled by his ankle eighty feet off the ground. Looking up, he gaped at the man in black who was holding him over the edge of the clock tower.

"Time to talk. Where's Cobblepot?"

-II-

"All right…yeah, thanks."

McKenzie hung up his phone, turning towards Laura.

"CSI is on their way. You think the Bat did this?"

Kneeling in the rubble of what was once one of the radio tower's walls, Laura shook her head as she examined the body lying on the floor. "No. He showed up, what, half an hour, forty-five minutes ago? Body's too stiff for that. This guy's been here for hours."

"Any ideas?" McKenzie asked, leaning against the wall.

"Not really. Seems like overkill to rig a door to explode to kill one guy. Probably weren't aiming to kill anyone specific, just keep people away from the control panel."

"You think the tower was sabotaged, then?" McKenzie frowned. "So whoever did this was, what, just protecting their work?"

"More or less." Laura shrugged. "But who would mess with a radio tower? Techs say it's back online, so they obviously didn't take anything. Why else would they be here?"

Before McKenzie could respond, the shrill ringing of a phone rang out in the corridor. Fishing around in her pocket, Laura pulled out her phone and brought it up to her ear.

"Anderson."

 _"_ _Anderson, it's Gordon. You and McKenzie still on scene at the GCR tower?"_

"Yeah, we're here. Why?"

 _"_ _Someone sent a tip to the precinct about a body upstairs. And a full analysis of the crime scene. And the IDs of the victim and perp."_

Laura suppressed a smile at the captain's irritated tone. "Yeah, we found it, we're just waiting for CSI to get here."

 _"_ _Good. You and McKenzie head back to the precinct when they get there."_

"Sure thing, see you then."

In response to McKenzie's questioning look, Laura shook her head. "Someone called in about the body and sent us a full crime scene analysis. Looks like the Bat's been busy."

Standing up, Laura brushed the dust off her pants and took a step back from the rubble. "Gordon wants us back at the precinct as soon as the techs show up."

McKenzie raised an eyebrow. "Something going on?"

"Not that he mentioned." The sergeant shrugged. "Probably wants to coordinate the search for whoever broke out of Blackgate tonight. Best get it done now, before the roads get completely impassable. The weather's only supposed to get worse from here on out."

The CSI technicians arrived soon enough, crime scene analysis in hand, Laura noted with amusement, and within minutes the two officers were on their way to the New Gotham Precinct.

"So, now that Loeb's dead…" McKenzie started, drawing the sergeant's attention away from the sight of Pioneer's Bridge just outside the cruiser, "Who's in charge? Branden, or Gordon?"

"Honestly, Ben? I've got no idea. In a perfect world, Gordon's captaincy would snag him the spot, Branden's connections be damned. But he was Loeb's lapdog, and with SWAT at his back…"

"It's anyone's game." The detective concluded.

Laura nodded, gaze returning to the city flashing by outside the cruiser's window. Leaning her head against the glass, she sighed, not daring to vocalize what both officers were thinking.

 _And we're going to be caught right in the middle of it._

-II-

The once-opulent Lacey Towers apartment was in shambles. A fire had clearly broken out, leaving the hardwood floor blackened and charred and a layer of soot covering the whole room. Pieces of broken furniture littered the floor, indicating some sort of fight or struggle. The most gruesome feature was the two bodies decorating the main room of the apartment; the male sprawled out on the floor in a puddle of dried blood while the female, identified as Tiffany Ambrose, was strung up on the chandelier, hanging by her wrists.

It was here that Bruce Wayne found himself, kneeling in the soot and ash to better examine the male victim.

 _The shallow trajectory of the bullet suggests the shooter could be someone of Penguin's height,_ Bruce mused to himself. _But the grooves on the floor suggest the victim was killed by someone leaning back in a chair._

Standing up, Bruce moved over to the body of Tiffany Ambrose, still suspended in the center of the room. Glancing up, he examined the bullet wound in her chest, undoubtedly the source of the young woman's demise. _This bullet was fired from a revolver. Ballistics analysis indicates a low angle of trajectory. The shooter could have been someone of Penguin's height, but the pattern in the gunpowder residue suggests the bullet was actually fired by someone lying on the ground._

As Bruce moved through the apartment, more clues began to surface, further piecing together the scene. Four people were present in the room at the time of the crime; Tiffany Ambrose, the male victim, his shooter, and whomever attacked the shooter. Penguin, though present at the crime scene, had arrived long after the crime had been committed, and could not have been the shooter. Which begged the question…

 _If he didn't kill Black Mask, who did?_

Picking up a phone on the floor and realizing it must have belonged to Tiffany, Bruce quickly flicked through the text messages, the most recent addressed to Roman Sionis.

 **Tiffany: Hurry I'm scared**

 **Roman: On my way**

 **Tiffany: Who's the Joker?**

 **Roman: No one that matters**

Scowling to himself, Bruce put down the phone and made towards the door. With every new clue, only more questions were raised. _Who is 'the Joker'? Was he the killer here? Or is he one of the assassins?_

Flicking on the comm piece in his cowl, Bruce angled his head down towards the mic.

"Alfred – I need access to the National Criminal Database."

 _"_ _Well, the only way to do that would be to infiltrate the Gotham City Police Department."_ The butler's accented voice responded through the comm.

"Then that's where I'm going." The vigilante decided.

 _"_ _Sir, you'd need to physically hack into their servers. If you insist on doing something that foolish you'll need a powerful nonlethal weapon. I recommend coming back here to pick up your concussion detonator."_

"Not a bad idea."

Bruce exited the apartment, making his way back towards the balcony he'd entered the tower from. Quickly dispatching the SWAT officer guarding the door, the vigilante exited it and grappled up onto the roof. Activating the signal on his utility belt, it was only moments before the dark shape of the Batwing appeared overhead. Shooting his grappling line upwards, Bruce swiftly made his way into the vehicle, shooting off in the direction of Wayne Manor.

-II-

"I know everyone's still in shock over what happened to Commissioner Loeb, but we need to stay focused on our primary targets for tonight. So far Waylon Jones has been processed – and we're following an anonymous tip on Deathstroke's location – but we've got a ways to go before sunrise."

Gordon stood in front of two dozen officers gathered in the New Gotham Precinct's bullpen. Most were part of Gordon's Vigilante Task Force, but a few officers and detectives had been pulled from Homicide and SWAT to deal with the growing body count due to the assassins' presence in the city. Laura Anderson stood in the front row, listening intently to her mentor's address.

"There's eight assassins in town tonight. From the info we've been gathering, they are among the most dangerous criminals on record – period. After interrogating Waylon Jones, we've learned that they're all competing for a huge bounty which Black Mask has offered for the head of the Bat."

A murmur broke out amongst the officers gathered, and out of the corner of her eye, Laura spotted several of Branden's SWAT members exchange a look. McKenzie, who'd been standing next to her, leaned over and whispered, "Fifty-million, from what I heard."

"Alright, cut the chatter, people," Gordon interrupted, once again commanding the attention of the room. "Our goal is to ensure order in this city. So our number one priority becomes bringing in the Bat BEFORE these assassins get to him. Now, the closer it gets to morning, the more desperate the assassins will grow – and if he's still out there – the more damage they'll cause to the city as they try to find or attract him. All right, dismissed."

Gordon walked off towards his office, a young redhead Laura recognized as Gordon's daughter Barbara waiting for him by the door. Turning her back to the father and daughter, who at that point had begun to argue, Laura addressed the detective at her side.

"You catch that look between SWAT when Gordon mentioned the bounty?"

McKenzie nodded, folding his arms over his chest. "Yeah. Not surprised Branden would try to go after it. He's almost as much in Sionis' pocket as Loeb was."

"Must not be feeling too confident he can grab power from Gordon." Laura mused.

"Heard Hill might name Grogan instead."

Laura snorted. Peter Grogan was just as corrupt, if not more so, than Loeb. The man didn't so much as sneeze without consulting Sal Maroni first. If almost nothing got done under Loeb, a GCPD under Grogan was not even worth the taxpayer dollars it took to keep it running.

The sound of a door slamming interrupted the conversation, and a glance over to Captain Gordon's office explained why. Barbara Gordon stormed out of her father's office, off towards the ground level of the precinct despite her father's "Barbara, wait!" shouted after her. Sighing, Laura gave McKenzie an apologetic smile before ascending the stairs towards the captain's office.

Gordon was leaning against the doorframe of his office, rubbing his temples.

"Bat-Man argument again?"

Gordon glanced up, nodding. "She just doesn't understand that he's just another criminal. That he's subverting the law. If she wasn't so damn stubborn…"

"A trait she inherited from her father, evidently." Laura smirked.

Gordon snorted, rubbing his temples once more. With a glance towards the stairway to the main floor, the sergeant laid a hand on her mentor's arm.

"Jim, just relax. Go get a cup of coffee and take ten. Believe me, you look like you could use it. I'll go talk to Barbara."

The captain shot his protégé a grateful smile. "Thanks, kid."

Laura turned away from her mentor and descended down the precinct's main staircase. Barbara wasn't hard to find; since she'd been old enough to work a computer, one could always find Barbara Gordon in the GCPD's server room, sifting through the files on the computers' database. Today was no exception.

"Anything in particular catching your eye?"

The teenager jumped, clearly not expecting company. The tenseness that had seized her body moments before melted away as she recognized the sergeant, folding her arms and scowling at the woman before her.

"Laura! Jesus, don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry, Barb." Laura walked over to the computer the young woman had been working with, glancing at the screen and arching a brow. "Investigating missing weapons?"

Barbara blushed, but held the sergeant's gaze. "If I don't do anything, who will? The system's broken Laura, you know that! Those weapons will just get sold off to Penguin or Black Mask, and no one will do anything!"

Laura sighed, laying a hand on the redhead's shoulder. "I know Barbara, believe me, I know. But if someone finds out what you're up to, you could end up getting really hurt, or worse. And your Dad and I might not be able to protect you."

The girl sighed, glancing back towards the computer screen. She opened her mouth to continue, but before she could, the server room door swung open. Turning towards the newcomer, Laura immediately shoved Barbara behind her, unholstering her sidearm and aiming it at the figure in the doorway. A deafening silence fell over the room at the telltale 'click' of the gun's safety being flicked off.

In the doorway stood the Bat-Man.


	3. Complications

**Author's Note:** And finally chapter 3 is done! Sorry it took so long to get this one out. The last few weeks have been kind of a mess, both finishing up all my stuff for school in the fall and prepping for a family vacation. But, it's finally done, and I've already started working on chapter 4. As always, please review, as I love to hear from you guys, and feel free to message me with any commentary, questions, or concerns you may have.

* * *

"Laura, what are you _doing?!_ "

Despite the young woman behind her tugging at her arm, Laura Anderson's stance did not change. Her gun remained trained on the man before her, ready to fire at the slightest movement. The Bat-Man was unmoving as well, still hovering in the doorway and staring at her intently.

Now that he wasn't diving off the side of a building, Laura could get a better look at the man in black. He was tall, at least 6'0, and well-muscled, a fact only emphasized by his armored suit. He hadn't shaved that day, as evidenced by the stubble present across his jaw, and through the eyepieces in his cowl, she could see he had blue eyes. His armor and cape were more torn and scratched than she'd seen at Blackgate, no doubt due to his antics across the city that night. He hadn't moved since she'd pointed her gun at him, looming ominously in the doorway, waiting for her to make the first move. The sergeant remembered reading reports saying the man was skilled in martial arts.

She briefly wondered if he could dodge a bullet at point-blank range.

"I need access to the National Criminal Database."

Laura snorted. "And you expect me to let you just waltz on in and go through the GCPD's computers?"

"Laura!" Barbara tugged on her arm again. "You just said it yourself; the system is broken! You know nothing is going to get done with Branden in charge! If we don't do anything, this city is only going get worse and worse until it's beyond saving. He can help, you know that! Please, Laura."

Laura glanced at the redhead, taking in the pleading look on the young woman's face. With a sigh, she lowered her sidearm and holstered it. The Bat-Man moved towards the server, but before he could plug in the device he'd pulled out of his belt, the sergeant moved in front of him, blocking his way. He angled his head downward, meeting her gaze.

"You make me regret this, and I will _personally_ hunt you down and throw you into Blackgate." She warned.

Though it was barely perceptible, Laura spotted the corner of the vigilante's mouth twitch as if he was fighting a smirk. "Understood."

"Uh, the Database is over here." Barbara called from the corner of the room, interrupting the exchange.

The Bat-Man moved towards the server, kneeling down to plug in the small device he'd fished out of his belt. Laura watched Barbara lean in earnestly, eager to watch the vigilante work.

"Cool Pwnbox – you're bypassing the network's security. But you'll need to physically bridge the intranet to the external telecom wires if you want to uplink remotely."

The Bat-Man stood up, returning the device to its place in his belt. "This kind of knowledge could get a young girl into a lot of trouble."

Laura snorted and moved to stand next to the teenager. "Believe me, she knows."

"The telecom wires run under the building. You can access them through the sewers." The redhead continued, ignoring the commentary of the present adults.

Nodding, the vigilante made to leave, but paused as the young woman continued. "Wait…Why do you do what you do?"

Laura raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for the caped man's response. She was not disappointed, as he turned around and met her gaze.

"Because I made a promise."

Before Barbara could ask any further questions, a hissing sound filled the air as a small gas canister rolled across the floor, filling the room with smoke. Laura shoved the vigilante back towards the door on the other side of the room, choking on the gas.

"Go, now!"

He nodded, disappearing towards the back of the room. Turning back towards Barbara, Laura tugged the young girl away from the canister as the room filled with SWAT officers, guns in hand. One recognized the pair, and lowered his weapon.

"Hold your fire!"

"You idiots, it's me! What were you thinking?" Barbara accused, in between fits of coughing.

"Who were you talking to in there?" One officer snapped.

"She was talking to me, Ramirez." Laura answered, stepping in front of the girl. "The hell were you thinking, going in guns blazing like that? You could have killed someone!"

"You deaf, Anderson?" He snarled. "The alarms have been going off for twenty minutes! There's an intruder in the building."

"Well, they're obviously not here. So, I suggest the lot of you make yourselves useful and finish the search instead of standing around like a bunch of jackasses." The sergeant retorted, tugging Barbara away from the server room and up the stairs. She didn't stop until they were in Gordon's office, the captain in question strangely absent.

"You know your father can never know about this, right?"

The teenager snorted, sitting down at her father's desk and pulling out her laptop. "Obviously."

Laura moved to stand behind her, watching lines of code appear as the young woman typed away at the keyboard. She frowned, unsure as to what Barbara meant to accomplish.

"Barb, what are you up to?"

"Hacking Batman's comms. If the GCPD won't track down those weapons, maybe he will."

Before the sergeant could protest, a small crackling was heard as Barbara broke the code, and her laptop was linked in to the vigilante's system.

"Hello? ...Hello? Batman? It's Barbara." She rambled into the mic. "Sorry for, uh, hacking into your comms, but I need a favor. Some evidence crates have gone missing. Army-grade stuff and no one here's doing anything about it. So I'm sending you their GPS location information. Use your weapon disruptor on any crates you find. It'll fry their circuits and render the stuff useless."

The redhead shut her laptop and sighed in relief, smiling slightly at the woman standing next to her. Laura shook her head, rubbing her temples.

"I'm so fired."

-III-

"Alfred – I need you to look someone up in the GCPD's employee database."

Bruce Wayne stood on the snow-covered roof of an apartment building, preparing to make his descent into the Gotham City sewers. The building on which he was perched wasn't far from the New Gotham Precinct from which he'd just escaped, after his run-in with SWAT and Captain James Gordon. He'd meant to go straight to the sewer entrance that Alfred had marked in his GPS system, but his curiosity about the woman in the server room had gotten the better of him.

 _"_ _Certainly sir. Whom do you wish me to search?"_ Alfred's accented voice filtered through the comm.

"Look for an officer with the first name Laura."

The clicking of a keyboard could be heard through the comm as the butler searched. _"Ah, here we are. Only one match, a Laura Elizabeth Anderson. Age twenty-eight, graduate of Gotham City University, currently employed as a sergeant in the GCPD's Homicide Division."_

"Laura Anderson… why does that sound familiar?" Bruce mused aloud.

 _"_ _Apparently she was the young officer that rescued Mayor Hill's daughter last year, when she was taken hostage."_ The butler replied.

The vigilante nodded to himself, recalling the incident. A serial killer named Quentin Jones had been abducting girls, torturing them for days before slashing their throats and leaving them to be found in back alleys across Gotham. Mayor Hamilton Hill's daughter had been the eighth girl to be taken, and a young officer, this Laura Anderson apparently, had been able to discover and infiltrate the killer's hideout and shoot him, escaping with Hill's daughter before she could be killed.

"Any evidence of corruption?" Bruce asked.

 _"_ _None that I can find,"_ Alfred replied. _"Bank records indicate no unusual deposits suggesting bribes, nor any outstanding debt to be used as blackmail. Phone records show repeated calls to a residence in Concord registered to a relative, one Detective Benjamin McKenzie, Captain James Gordon, and the personal number of a lawyer in the District Attorney's Office. No criminal record to speak of, save for a police report from an incident from late July."_

"What kind of incident?" Bruce questioned, wary.

 _"_ _It seems someone attempted to break into Miss Anderson's apartment, and the intruder was shot and killed in the ensuing struggle. Apparently, the assailant was one of Miss Anderson's coworkers, a Detective Kevin Hightower."_ Alfred sighed. _"Aside from that, her records are spotless."_

Bruce nodded, though he knew the Englishman couldn't see it. "Thank you, Alfred."

 _"_ _Certainly sir. Have you found yourself a potential ally in the GCPD, then?"_

Bruce unfurled his cape and dove off the side of the building, gliding towards the entrance to the sewer system.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

-III-

"Anderson! Get down to the holding cells, now!"

Laura looked up from the report she'd been reading to meet the glare of the man before her. Captain Michael Conway stood in the entrance to her office, his tall, imposing figure taking up most of the doorway. He stood ramrod straight, shoulders squared in the manner he'd retained from his years in the Army. Though now in his late forties and not in the shape he once was, Conway was still a man who was to be respected and feared, a pillar in the GCPD, and one of the few officers who remained uncorrupted.

"Captain?" She questioned, unsure as to why he was here. Though technically her superior, as he was one of the leading figures in Homicide, she'd been temporarily reassigned to Gordon's command to deal with the assassins.

"There's been a riot down in the holding cells. Branden's taken SWAT on that damnable hit job of his, and Gordon's out cold downstairs, making us the only goddamn thing keeping that lot in line. So enough with the pencil pushing, and get your ass down there!" He snarled, storming towards the staircase.

Laura quickly rose from her desk, hurrying to follow. "How the hell did they get out of their cells?"

Conway shook his head, making a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "Cameras were down for 'maintenance', so we've got no damn clue. But I'd be willing to bet my pension that someone let them out to make Gordon look like an ass."

Making their way downstairs, the two officers strode into the holding cells, the gathered officers parting to let Conway pass, Laura close behind. It was obvious something had gone down, large cracks marring the concrete walls and burst fire extinguishers littering the floor. Stepping closer to get a better look, the sergeant realized the cracks were impact marks.

It wasn't hard to figure out who had made them.

"Bat quelled the riot?"

Conway nodded, mouth curled downward in disgust. "Never thought I'd see the day where some freak in a Halloween costume does better police work than the goddamn police. It's fuckin' shameful."

Laura eyed the officers leading the now-handcuffed prisoners out of the room. "We transferring them to the Old Gotham Precinct?"

The captain snorted, waving off two patrolmen who had tried to insist he wait for Branden to return before moving prisoners. "A few. Most are getting sent to Gotham General."

The next hour passed in a blur, directing the various transfers to Old Gotham and Gotham General and divvying up cruisers between transfers and active-duty patrols. By the time the last prisoner was packed away, Laura was exhausted, leaning against the precinct's wall to catch her breath.

That's where Conway found her, not looking much better himself. "Just got word Gordon's awake, and giving the medics hell. Go talk some sense into him, will ya?"

Laura raised an eyebrow at her superior, but nodded. "Will do, captain."

As she was making her way down to the basement infirmary, she heard Conway call out behind her.

"And tell him not to get his fool-ass knocked out again, huh?"

She didn't stop laughing until she'd reached the basement.

-III-

The Gotham Merchant's Bank was one of the oldest buildings in the city. Hundreds of thousands of Gothamites had walked through its halls over the last two-hundred fifty years, marveling at its marble floors, decorative pillars, and the general feel of opulence that its varied owners had striven so hard to maintain. Tonight was no different, various bows and Christmas baubles adorning the main lobby in an attempt to give the massive building a festive atmosphere.

The effect, however, was quite ruined by the dozens of bodies littered across the main hall.

Bruce Wayne moved through the lobby, only briefly examining the corpses littering the hall. A few were suspended from the steel pillars holding up the building, others tied up and grouped together in various corners of the room. The vigilante shook his head in disgust, exiting the room through the vents, but couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had come over him even as the bodies disappeared from sight.

 _They're all dead – but there's something more sinister going on here._

Making his way through the vents, Bruce landed in a small room, noting the lack of exits. Exploiting the aged concrete's structural weakness, a bit of explosive gel was all it took to blast through the floor and into the level below.

And directly into a group of Black Mask's men.

He paid them little attention, completely focused on Black Mask himself who was overseeing what looked to be the transfer of money into an ambulance. The goon to Sionis' right dropped a duffel bag, pulling out a gun and pressing it to the temple of a young woman with a Merchant's Bank nametag. But rather than acting terrified, as Bruce expected, she was…. _giggling?_

"Think you can just waltz on into my bank, huh?" Black Mask asked, approaching the vigilante with what could only be described as an arrogant swagger.

"Roman." Bruce bit out, impatient. "I'm here for the Joker."

"The Joker?" The gangster mocked, feigning innocence. "Never heard of him." He strode over to the woman, who'd begun to lose her balance from laughter, and pressed a gun to her cheek. "How 'bout you doll? Know the Joker?"

The woman swayed on her feet, the thug's grip on her arm the only thing keeping her from collapsing onto the ground. "The…who?" She giggled, seemingly unaffected by the firearm pressed to her face.

Another of Sionis' goons came forward, forcing a second hostage to his knees in the center of the room. This one was bound and had his head covered by a sack, utterly helpless to defend himself. Black Mask strode up behind him, gripping the top of the sack in a fist.

"And you, sir? Name Joker ring a bell?"

Black Mask ripped off the sack, revealing the hostage's face, though he still could not speak due to the duct tape covering his mouth. Bruce stood there for a moment, processing what he'd just seen. The hostage was Roman Sionis.

 _But then who…?_

The impersonator Black Mask reached forward, ripping the tape off of Sionis' mouth. The crime boss glared up at his kidnapper, a look of absolute hatred in his eyes.

"You sunova bitch!" He snarled. "You think you can steal from me and get away with it? You're a dead man! Dead!"

The impersonator took a deep breath to compose himself before planting a firm kick to Sionis' face, knocking the gangster over.

"Can't…you…just…play…along?!"

The not-Black Mask punctuated each word with a savage kick to Sionis' prone form, cracking ribs with each kick, Bruce was sure. With one final kick to Roman's torso, the imposter turned back to the gathered thugs, motioning for them to load Sionis into the stolen ambulance. Approaching it himself, the pretender turned his back to the vigilante for a moment before taking off his mask.

To his credit, Bruce was only mildly shocked by the man's appearance. Chalk-white skin and blood-red lips composed the face before him, with a head of green hair and matching eyes completing the ensemble. Strangely enough, as Bruce searched the man's face, he could not detect even a hint of makeup or paint.

The clown-man met his gaze, lips stretched into an impossibly wide grin.

 _The Joker._

"It's been you this whole time." Bruce accused, stepping forward. "You hired the assassins. You've been running Sionis' operation."

Joker smiled even wider, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, technically it's _my_ operation now. Isn't that right boys?"

The young woman's laughter had reached an even higher pitch, her smile stretched so far it had to be painful. She could barely keep her balance now, swaying dangerously.

"You've got me. Now let her go."

Joker's smile turned almost patronizing as he wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders.

"Oh, life would be so simple if you were all I wanted. No, no – you're just a teeny little distraction compared to what I've got up my sleeve."

Joker raised his gun and fired three rounds at the vigilante, the impact forcing him to one knee, despite his armor's deflection of the bullets.

"Here! Have a laugh on me."

Joker pushed the young woman forward, now barely standing on her feet. Mounting the truck, he turned back to the armored man, smirking.

"Do you hear that? Sounds like eight tiny reindeer!"

The ambulance took off, and not a second later Bruce dove for the woman, tackling her to the ground as an explosion sounded from behind them. He felt his head collide harshly with the floor, and for a moment, everything went black. When he came to, he found himself on the floor of the bank's lobby, staring into the grinning face of the young woman's corpse. Shaking his head, he grappled up onto one of the lobby's gargoyles, just as more of Joker's men flooded into the room.

 _It's going to be a long night._

-III-

"You've certainly looked better."

Laura Anderson smirked as James Gordon looked up at her, clearly unamused.

Gordon was seated on a gurney in the GCPD's infirmary, pressing an ice pack to the back of his head. Aside from the bump on the head, the police captain was unharmed, which was more than could be said for the infirmary's other residents. Two SWAT officers laid nearby, waiting to be transferred to Gotham General. The two sported broken ribs and massive bruising, both internal and external, and Lawson's arm had been dislocated. All thanks to the Batman, according to Gordon.

"How's Barbara?" He asked, ignoring the snide comment.

"Worried about you," The sergeant replied, leaning against the wall. "And a little shaken from SWAT barging in to the server room guns-blazing. Aside from that, she's perfectly fine."

"Good." Gordon sighed, leaning back onto the gurney, wincing as the ice pack pressed a little too heavily against the sore spot on his head. "Thanks for looking after her, by the way."

"Any time. Barbara's a good kid. A little headstrong, but that's not always a bad thing."

Gordon snorted. "You say that now. Wait till you have kids, then talk to me."

Laura smiled, bidding her mentor a 'good-bye' as she made her way up towards the bullpen. Before she could make it halfway up the stairs, McKenzie bumped into her, nearly knocking her backwards.

"You in a hurry, Ben?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Coming to get you, actually." He replied, grabbing her arm and tugging her up the stairs. "Got another anonymous tip about one of the assassins. This one's being kept in the Sionis Steel Mill."

The two rushed outside, hopping into one of the cruisers and speeding off towards the Industrial District. The ride to the Mill didn't take long, and soon enough they were parked outside the building. The steel mill itself was a massive construction of cement and metal, giant pillars of flame shooting out from smokestacks despite its supposed inactivity, vaguely reminding Laura of an illustration she'd seen in high school depicting one of Dante's levels of Hell.

"Remind me," She asked, watching Allen and Montoya pull up beside them. "How many assassins does this make now?"

"Four, I think." McKenzie replied, stepping out of the car. "We've got Jones and Deathstroke, and last I heard, Fey and Driver were heading out to pick up that sniper at the Merchant's Bank. Deadshot, I think the file said."

"Batman, Deadshot, Deathstroke…" The sergeant shook her head. "And this one's Copperhead. Where the hell do these people get these names from?"

McKenzie snorted. "Too many comic books, maybe?"

The four gathered officers made their way into the steel mill, glancing around. The mill didn't look nearly as abandoned as Sionis claimed, little to no dust settled over the various crates and equipment, and the floor recently-swept. A huge hole had been knocked into one wall, exposing a hallway with an elevator at the end. Laura heard Montoya behind her radio for backup to search the mill.

Before they could do as much as begin the search, a loud bang was heard, followed by a woman's voice screaming angrily in Spanish. Exchanging a look, Laura and Montoya followed the sound, stopping in front of a large steel shipping container from which the screaming and banging emanated.

"You want to take a look, or should I?"

Laura snorted, approaching the door. "I've got it. Just get ready to shoot."

Montoya nodded, unholstering her sidearm and taking aim at the container. Laura opened the container a crack and peered inside.

Inside was a woman, hands and feet bound, thrashing around on the floor. She had white-blonde hair, yellow eyes, and a smear of black makeup across both eyes and the bridge of her nose. She was dressed in nothing but a pair of leather pants and a snakeskin vest, with tattoos covering most of her visible skin. Oddly enough, Laura noticed, she wasn't wearing any shoes.

Copperhead looked up at the sergeant, lips curling into a snarl. Laura slammed the door closed, a slew of Spanish screamed at her from inside the container. She turned back to Montoya, whose eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"I don't want to know what she just said, do I?"

Montoya snorted. "Definitely not."

Backup arrived shortly after, including a slightly ragged-looking Captain Gordon. Approaching her mentor, Laura opened her mouth to speak, but the captain beat her to it.

"The medics cleared me, I'm fine to work."

She rolled her eyes. "You'd be here even if they didn't." She gestured behind her. "Copperhead's still in the shipping container. She's been tied up, but she's an escape artist, so…"

"It might not stay that way for long." Gordon finished, nodding. He motioned for two officers to open the container, and they dragged the assassin out, kicking and screaming. Laura noted they'd brought along an armored transport vehicle, which they subsequently tossed the woman into and locked the door.

"Think that'll hold her?"

Gordon sighed, rubbing his temples. "We're about to find out, aren't we?"

Just then, a distant boom sounded from across the bay, drawing the attention of the gathered police officers. Laura looked in its direction, spotting a flash of red flame erupt from one of the buildings in New Gotham.

"The hell was that?"

"Gordon!" McKenzie shouted from one of the cruisers, pulling his cell phone away from his face. "Dispatch says there was an explosion at the Royal. GCTV is broadcasting footage now, with Batman and some thugs in clown masks at the scene. Helicopters are already on their way."

Gordon was on his way to a cruiser before McKenzie had finished, shouting for the gathered officers to meet at the hotel. Laura hurried to a car, slamming the door shut as McKenzie peeled out of the mill's parking lot and onto the street.

As the convoy was crossing Pioneer Bridge, a second explosion came from New Gotham, this one far larger. Laura peered out the windshield, watching as the half-finished Ellsworth building tumbled to the ground in a burst of fire and smoke. The cruiser skidded to a halt, neither of its passengers able to turn their gaze away from the destruction.

"Oh, God…"


	4. Homicide & Hellfire

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry this took so long to get out! I never expected this chapter to take as long as it did. Between nursing school, work, and a lack of inspiration, I finished this about two months later than I'd intended. Thankfully, school ends in about two weeks, and then I'll have a whole month to write. Thank you for hanging in there and being so patient!

* * *

Laura had never seen so many bodies.

Corpses littered the lobby of the Gotham Royal Hotel, criminal and civilian alike. It seemed that after the initial massacre of guests and employees unlucky enough to be present in the hotel's grand foyer, a second group had moved in, slaughtering the group of clown-masked men and leaving them to die alongside their victims. A massive crystal chandelier that had once hung as the centerpiece of the room lay smashed against the marble floor, a body impaled on its arms. The lush carpets and expensive furniture were splattered with blood, more akin to a scene from a horror film than the opulent hotel Laura had known since her youth.

"Jesus Christ…"

Gordon nodded grimly, watching the CSI techs scramble to photograph the carnage. "This isn't even the beginning of it. Essen's leading a second team upstairs. Someone's turned the ballroom into some amusement park death-trap. They're reporting dozens more bodies."

Laura swallowed, unsure as to how to respond. Gotham had never been a kind place, she'd always known that. She'd worked Homicide for nearly five years now, bearing witness to the very worst kind of people that Gotham had to offer. But the killings she was used to, in one twisted way or another, had purpose. Power, money, revenge, always some goal motivating someone enough to take a life for personal gain. But this? Death on this scale, for seemingly nothing but its own sake, was something she couldn't have predicted.

Laura glanced through the lobby's open doors to where Bullock was loading the massacre's apparent mastermind into a cruiser. The man, decked out in a long purple coat, laughed at something the detective said, an impossibly wide grin stretched out across his chalk-white face. Bullock sneered in disgust, grabbing the man by the back of the neck and shoving him into the back.

"Any idea who the clown is?"

"No real name yet," Gordon replied. "But he goes by 'The Joker'."

"Not one of the assassins, then." Laura mused. "What's the situation at the Ellsworth building?"

"No casualties, thank God." Gordon sighed. "Construction crews had already gone home for the night. Fires are under control, but the rubble's blocking off access to half of the Diamond District. We won't be able to clear a path until morning, at least."

"Gordon!"

The two turned to see Crispus Allen waving them over from outside the hotel, the mic to one of the gathered cruiser's radios in hand.

"You're going to want to hear this."

" _-reports of shots fired outside the Park Row Sewage Plant. Witnesses describe a well-armed organized group fighting an individual in body armor and a cape. Requesting any available officers to secure the scene."_

"Damn it!" Gordon snarled, slamming a hand down on the hood of the cruiser. "Assassins, bombed buildings, now what, mercenaries? What game are these people playing?"

"Jim," Laura started, watching her mentor run a hand through his hair in frustration. "We've got it covered. You worry about the hotel and Ellsworth, I'll go with McKenzie over to Park Row and get a handle on things there. We'll get through this, I promise."

Squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment, the captain eventually nodded. "Okay. Just…don't do anything heroic. Fey and Driver are in the area if you need backup."

With a smile, Laura laid a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Come on Jim, you know me. When do I ever pull out the heroics?"

As she turned to where McKenzie was standing, she heard Gordon snort and mutter to himself. The detective in question was leaning up against a nearby cruiser, a grimace adorning his face.

"So, we're chasing after mercenaries?"

Laura shrugged as she climbed in the driver's seat and turned the car around towards Park Row. "It's probably safer than chasing after crocodile men during a prison riot."

"That's…fair."

-IV-

The blips from the tracker were getting faster.

Descending the aged metal staircase, Bruce made his way deeper into the Park Row Sewage Plant. Ignoring the rank smell and oppressive humidity, the vigilante heaved open the heavy metal door at the base of the stairs and stepped forward through the doorway, ready to face Bane for the final time that night.

Despite the tracker's indication otherwise, Bruce was the only living soul in the room. Tanks of Venom were stacked against the walls, their contents glowing from the small viewports built into the sides. A small medical facility was tucked into one corner of the room, and as Bruce stepped closer, he could see it was filled with the mercenary's research into the drug. Following the tracker's signal, he continued on, moving down a short hall at the far end of the room to what looked like a small computer lab.

Glancing around, Bruce noticed the room was covered in photographs of himself, articles from the Gotham Gazette detailing his work pinned between the pictures on the corkboards covering the walls. The dates stretched back years, to the very beginning of his career as a vigilante in Gotham, long before the Joker ever put a bounty on his head. His gaze was drawn to a table in the center of the room, supporting several computer monitors stacked on top of one another.

Perched on the corner of the table was his tracker.

Picking up the device, Bruce's head snapped up when the action caused the numerous screens to flicker to life. While most of the screens displayed footage of his actions across Gotham that night, one played the short interview he'd had that morning with Vicki Vale.

The one as Bruce Wayne.

In a fit of rage, Bruce punched through the largest monitor, sending shattered glass flying across the room. The remaining monitors sputtered and died, their screens fading to black once more. Placing a small explosive in the center of the electronics, he hurried out of the room, detonating the device behind him.

"Alfred, Bane knows who I am. You're not safe at Wayne Manor."

" _Got it. I'll call the police!"_ The Englishman replied, seemingly unfazed at the revelation.

"No," Bruce interjected quickly, "I can't risk them discovering my identity as well. Just secure yourself in the Batcave."

" _What are you going to do?"_ The butler asked, concern coloring his tone.

"I'm on my way to you. I'll… figure something out."

Making his way through the sewers, the vigilante's radio crackled to life once more, patching through a police broadcast.

" _Repeat: suspect is airborne in a jet pack, armed with a flamethrower. Multiple hostages on the Pioneers Bridge."_

Clenching his jaw in frustration, Bruce radioed the Batcave.

"Alfred – Firefly has hostages on the Pioneers Bridge. I need to deal with him before coming back."

The butler's sigh could be heard through the comm. _"Can't you just let the police handle Mr. Lynns – especially in light of what we've just learned?"_

"I can't abandon those hostages." Bruce argued. "They're in jeopardy because of me. Because of the bounty Joker placed on my head. You'll be safe in the Batcave."

He severed the connection before Alfred could reply, ascending the last set of stairs in the sewage plant and hurrying out the door into the frigid air of Park Row.

And nearly right into Laura Anderson.

-IV-

The door to the sewage plant was frozen shut.

No matter how hard she or McKenzie tugged on the handle, it refused to budge, blocking their entrance to the building. Giving the metal door one last yank, McKenzie slammed his fist on the concrete wall of the building, cursing under his breath.

"It's not moving. It looks like the ice is on the other side, so I can't even pick at it. Think we might be out of luck on this one, boss."

Laura glanced around the frozen parking lot, now empty since Fey and Driver had driven off towards The Bowery with the mercenaries they'd found strewn across the property, left unconscious in the snow. Spotting a figure hunched over on the side of the building, an idea struck the sergeant.

"Maybe not."

Striding over to the figure, who was situated between the building's twin dumpsters, Laura noticed the newcomer's ragged appearance and sighed in relief at her luck.

"Excuse me, is there another way into this building?"

The homeless man's gaze flicked down to the silvery badge clipped onto her belt, then back up to her face, one eyebrow raised. Getting the message, Laura fished her wallet out of her back pocket, pulling out two twenties and handing them to him.

"Like I said, is there another way in?"

Inspecting the bills for a moment, the man nodded, gesturing towards the far side of the plant.

"There's a back door that opens up to the alley. That's where the workers all go to smoke."

Flashing him a grateful smile, the sergeant hurried to the alley the man had indicated, McKenzie close behind. Reaching the alley, Laura spotted the back entrance and dashed for the door, reaching out to yank it open.

Only for someone else to slam the door open and storm out, nearly knocking her backwards.

Regaining her balance, Laura reflexively reached for her sidearm before taking a good look at the newcomer.

"Batman."

Though it was only for a second, surprise flashed across the vigilante's face at the sight of her.

"Sergeant Anderson."

Laura raised an eyebrow at his brief greeting, knowing full well she hadn't given her name during their short introduction back at the precinct. Repressing the urge to ask exactly how he knew who she was, she instead glanced over his shoulder towards the entrance to sewage plant.

"Leave another assassin for us in there?"

Moving around her, Batman strode towards the open air of the far end of the alley and pressed a button on his gauntlet, utterly ignoring McKenzie's open-mouthed gaping at him. "No."

Within moments, the same black jet she'd seen at Blackgate appeared overhead with a roar, hovering just above the buildings. Without another word, the vigilante fished what looked to be a small gun out of his belt and shot it upwards, a grappling line hooking onto the jet and tugging the masked man towards the sky. A second later, the jet was shooting off, leaving Laura and McKenzie standing in the alley in silence.

"Charming, isn't he?" The sergeant muttered under her breath, entering the plant and making her way down the stairs.

"You talked to Batman. You _know_ Batman. How the hell do you know Batman?" McKenzie rambled from behind her.

"We met when he broke into the New Gotham Precinct," Laura told him, descending the last few steps of the metal staircase.

"And…?" McKenzie trailed off.

Laura hesitated for a moment, unsure how to explain it without telling him she'd let a wanted criminal sift through the GCPD's computer database. Though she trusted the detective, both her job and her freedom were forfeit if anyone found out, and cops never lasted long in prison.

"And I told him if he screwed us over, I'd personally land his ass in Blackgate."

McKenzie paused for a minute before shaking his head and following behind her. _"Unbelievable."_

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she tugged open the door only to be hit with the stench of smoke and sewage. Coughing, Laura continued on, surveying the room. Whatever was once there was now destroyed, ash covering every surface and pieces of broken electronics flung across the room. McKenzie peered at the mess over her shoulder.

"Nothing we can do," The detective sighed, pulling out his phone. "I'll call up the precinct, let them know we've got a crime scene to process."

While McKenzie busied himself with his phone, Laura walked around the room, assessing the damage. Judging by the pieces of computer embedded in the walls and the ash pattern, she'd be willing to bet something in here had exploded.

 _A trap for Batman?_

As she circled around what looked to be the remnants of a server, a flash of color caught her eye. Picking it up to get a closer look, she realized it was a flash drive, its red plastic end slightly burned, but otherwise completely intact.

She nearly dropped it when McKenzie came up behind her, his expression panicked.

"We need to get to Pioneers Bridge, now. Firefly's got hostages and he's blowing up cars with a flamethrower. Gordon's already there."

Without thinking, Laura pocketed the drive and hurried up the plant's metal staircase towards the cruiser, intent on getting to the bridge as fast as possible.

It hadn't even occurred to her to wonder what might be on the drive.

-IV-

Bruce heard a roar overhead just as the last of Firefly's goons hit the cracked cement of Pioneers Bridge. The arson in question brought his jetpack to a hover about thirty feet above the vigilante's head, and though his face was covered in a mask, Bruce was sure the firebug was smirking down at him.

"How do you want to die? The quick, incinerating flash of an EXPLOSION? Or… a nice, slow BURN?" Lynns snarled, brandishing his flamethrower and shooting a jet of fire in Bruce's direction, barely giving him enough time to roll out of the way.

The flames hit a large pile of wreckage just behind where Bruce had been standing, triggering a small explosion and launching a nearby car off the side of the bridge and into the dark waters below. Bruce turned to face Firefly again, fixing the arson with a glare.

"The Joker's behind bars. There's no more prize money. You can give up now, or I can make you surrender. Your choice."

Firefly barked out a laugh and reached for his flamethrower, but before he could grab it, Bruce had fired the Batclaw and yanked the arson's wrist away. Bruce attempted to drag Lynns to the ground, but the firebug had seen that coming and sent his jetpack skyward, dragging the vigilante into the air with him.

Bruce held on for dear life as the arson attempted to shake him off, whipping into sharp turns and sending him crashing into debris littering the roadway of the bridge. As Firefly took a particularly harsh turn, slamming him against one of the bridge's support towers, Bruce decided he'd had enough, digging his heels into an outcropping on the tower's surface and yanking the arson to a sudden halt.

Lynns struggled to move forward, jetpack emitting a pathetic whine as the engines strained to overpower the vigilante's hold. Bruce adjusted his grip on the grappling line to one hand as he reached into his utility belt, muscles screaming in protest at the action. Pulling out a batarang, he took aim at the still-struggling arson and let the weapon fly, watching as it hit its mark and sunk into Lynns' wrist and caused him to drop the still-active detonator and send it spiraling to the bridge's surface below.

Bruce released his hold on the grappling line and unfurled his cape, gliding to the bridge's surface near where he had seen the detonator land. Firefly, having recovered from his sudden and unsteady jolt forward, arced around to where Bruce had landed and bathed the roadway in flame, only narrowly missing the vigilante. Ducking behind the wreckage of an overturned van, Bruce watched as Lynns cackled and sent jets of flame arcing over the bridge's surface, attempting to goad the vigilante out of his hiding spot.

An action Firefly would very soon come to regret.

-IV-

When Laura burst into the bridge's control center, Gordon didn't so much as spare her a glance. The police captain's eyes were glued to a small screen in the corner of the room, playing what seemed to be a security feed from the bridge's south side. Coming up to stand beside her mentor, she peered over his shoulder to get a look at what had so consumed the man's attention.

"Is that…?"

"Lynns… and Batman." The captain ground out, no small amount of irritation coloring his tone.

Laura watched as the vigilante was whipped back and forth like a ragdoll, attached to the arson by some sort of wire. No matter how hard Firefly tried to shake him, Batman held firm, never letting go even as he was dragged through the rubble covering the bridge's roadway. Firefly skyrocketed up, dragging the two out of the camera's view, but it was only moments before they were seen again, Batman on the arson's back as they spiraled out of control towards Old Gotham, one engine on Lynns' jetpack shattered and smoking.

Gordon grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, Laura in tow. "They should have landed on the north side, we can get to them from here."

Laura halted, grabbing the captain and tugging him to a stop as well. "Jim, what are you going to go do?"

Gordon's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the sergeant sighed, "After all this, are you still going to try and arrest him?"

Gordon scoffed, shaking his head. "Not you too. Barbara was bad enough, but _you_ should know better."

Laura crossed her arms over her chest and fixed her mentor with a glare. "Have you ever considered that she might actually have a point? I'll concede the guy's a nutjob, but he's done more for the city in six hours than most of the department's done in ten years. That has to count for something."

"Not when he broke the law to do it!" Gordon snapped.

Now it was Laura's turn to scoff. "Jim, three-quarters of the department is on someone's payroll, including the fucking police commissioner, and the best you've got is 'He's breaking the law'? Are you serious?"

"Where is this coming from?" He asked, incredulous. "Last week you thought he needed to be brought in just as much as I do."

"Last week, I thought he was just some punk beating up muggers for kicks. Last week, he didn't risk his life to save half the city. But last week isn't today." Laura shook her head and pushed past him towards the door. "Loeb's dead, Branden's out of moves, and half the criminals in this city are running scared. Gotham's changing, Jim, and we have to change with it. Maybe we should start with Batman."

Laura made her way through the debris littering the bridge to the northernmost support tower, where she could already see a small crowd of officers gathered. Even at a distance, she could see Lynns hanging upside down from a wire, knocked out cold. As she started towards them, she stopped dead as she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye.

A cape billowing in the wind.

Making her way towards the edge of the bridge, Laura looked up to see the vigilante in question perched on the remains of some decorative metalwork, staring at her intently.

"You might want to head out while you still can," Laura called over the wind. "Gordon will be here any minute."

"I can handle Gordon." Batman replied, not moving from where he was crouched over on the metal frame.

"Oh, I'm sure." Laura snorted, recalling the near-concussion he'd given the police captain earlier in the night. "I take it we'll be seeing more of you, then?"

If he hadn't been wearing a mask, Laura was sure she'd have seen the vigilante raising an eyebrow at her. "Does that mean you're done trying to arrest me?"

"For now," Laura said, a smile creeping onto her face. "What I said earlier still stands; you screw me over, and I _will_ take you down. But as long as you don't give me a reason to arrest you, I don't see why we should have a problem."

Batman opened his mouth as if to reply before flicking his gaze to something behind her. Laura turned around to see what he was staring at, blood running cold as she spotted Gordon storming towards them.

"I am _so_ fired…"

Gordon moved to stand next to her, shooting her what she called his ' _We're going to have a discussion about this later_ ' look, before turning to face the object of his ire. Before he got the chance to speak, Batman tossed a small plastic device to the ground, what Laura could only assume to be the detonator to Firefly's bombs.

"You didn't listen."

"I'm not big on taking orders from wanted men." The captain retorted.

"I'm not big on taking orders from cops." The masked man shot back. "I should have gotten to that last bomb."

Gordon's gaze flickered over to her for a moment before turning back to Batman, the glower etched onto his face softening slightly. "Yeah," he sighed, "And I should've given you access to that security door. But between the two of us, we covered it pretty well."

Gordon knelt down to collect the detonator, and when Laura looked back up, Batman had disappeared. The captain followed her gaze and let out a short huff of laughter, shaking his head and turning around to make his way back towards the north side of the bridge. Laura followed close behind, a wide smirk perched on her face. Gordon raised an eyebrow at her, not understanding what the sergeant found so amusing.

"What?"

"Nothing, really." Laura said cheekily. "Just thinking of how Barbara is never going to let you hear the end of this."

The sergeant let out at laugh as her mentor grimaced, realizing her point, and laid an arm on his shoulder.

"Seriously though, I know how hard that must have been for you. If my opinion counts for anything, I think you did the right thing."

The captain smiled wryly, patting the hand that was perched on his shoulder. "I hope so. You made a good point back there."

Laura shrugged. "Can't take all the credit. Barbara was the one who convinced me to give him a chance. She makes a damn good argument when she puts her mind to it. I don't know how you win any arguments with her."

Gordon let out a huff of laughter. "I don't."

As the two approached the line of cruisers on the north end of the bridge, McKenzie rushed over and stopped them short, panic written across his face.

"Captain! Dispatch just got a call from Blackgate. The prisoners are rioting, and the guards are completely overrun. They need backup."

"Again?" Gordon snarled. "Damn it! Montoya, I want all available units at Blackgate. McKenzie, did they say anything else? What's going on in there?"

McKenzie hesitated and averted his eyes, causing the sergeant to pause. She'd never known the man to approach anything without boundless confidence, and his withdrawn, almost meek behavior made her uneasy.

"Spit it out, detective." Gordon growled.

McKenzie sighed, looking up and meeting her gaze, and the fear in his eyes sent a chill down Laura's spine.

"It's the Joker, sir. The Joker's leading the riot."


	5. Back in Black(gate)

**I knew a few of you were hoping I'd get this one out in time for Christmas, and I did! Admittedly, at about 7:30 PM on Christmas, but Christmas nonetheless. Well, I'll let you get to it, then. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and I'll see you all in the new year!**

* * *

Blackgate was in ruins.

Huge sections of the outer walls had been destroyed, leaving gaping holes facing the cliffs overlooking Gotham Bay. Prisoners were running free across the grounds, wreaking havoc while the penitentiary's guards were either dead or in hiding. A massive fire had engulfed the entire western wing of the prison, and even from the road, Laura could hear the screams from those trapped inside burning alive.

"Jesus Christ…"

As the police convoy approached, the main gate screeched open revealing a handful of prison guards, the relief that backup had finally arrived plain on their faces. Gordon brought the cruiser to a halt and Laura hurried out of the car, immediately going towards the trunk to pull out the rifles stashed inside. Passing one to McKenzie, who had practically thrown himself out of the back of the cruiser, Laura snagged the other and shut the trunk, making her way over to the prison guards gathered near the gate controls.

"What's the status inside the prison?"

"We're completely overrun." One guard spoke up, nervously glancing towards Blackgate's huge steel doors. "We've lost radio contact with Warden Joseph and the rest of the guards inside, and we've got no idea what's going on in there. You'll be going in blind."

Gordon let out a huff, muttering under his breath for a minute before shaking his head. "Do we at least know where the Joker is?"

The guards shuffled nervously, none of them willing to meet the eyes of the gathered officers.

"Captain Gordon asked you a question," Laura snapped. "Do you know where the Joker is, yes or no?"

"He was last reported as heading towards the panopticon," One guard reluctantly replied. "That was half an hour ago."

Gordon nodded, turning back towards the gathered officers. "Montoya, Allen, Driver, Fey, Alvarez! Head to east wing to the warden's office and see if you can find Warden Joseph. Garrett, Gage, McKenzie, and Essen, you four stay here and make sure no one that's not a cop or guard gets through this door. Bullock, take Sawyer, Barnes, and Conway and head to the visitor's center – you'll be setting up the command post there. Anderson, you're with me."

Gordon rounded on the prison guards, who had been slowly inching away from the doors and towards the road, fixing them with a hard stare. "You four will be staying here and guarding the door. Anything happens to my officers, and I'm coming after you first. Understand?"

"Y-yes Captain Gordon." One of them stuttered out, nodding vigorously.

"Good." Gordon headed for the door and Laura moved to follow, but before she could, one of the guards grabbed her by the arm.

"He's waiting for the Bat."

Laura frowned at the guard, whose gaze was nervously flicking between her and the door. "What?"

"The Joker," He clarified, now staring at her intently. "That's why he's in the panopticon. He's waiting there for the Bat, and the Bat's already inside."

Laura nodded, jogging up towards Gordon. The captain was frowning, evidently having spotted the exchange. "What was that about?"

"The Joker's waiting for Batman inside the panopticon," She told him, "Maybe setting up some kind of trap. And Batman's already inside."

The sergeant hesitated for a moment. "We're not just going to let him walk into whatever Joker's got cooked up in there, right?"

Gordon pulled open the heavy steel doors of the prison's main entrance, just as Laura had only hours before, and shook his head.

"No. Not tonight."

-V-

Bruce hurried down the halls of the panopticon, following the path marked by bright green graffiti arrows. As the last door separating him from the center of the prison slid open, the vigilante was greeted with the sound of grating metal above his head, drawing his gaze upwards. There, descending on a large steel cargo elevator was the Joker, one arm wrapped around Warden Joseph's shoulders. His other hand was pressing a knife to the warden's throat, and the arm that had been securing the warden in place lifted, the clown mimicking the pollice verso of the gladiatorial games of old, much to the amusement of the surrounding inmates still locked in their cells.

"Let him go." Bruce snarled once the elevator had come to a halt.

"I…I understand you." The Joker began, ignoring his statement as if the vigilante hadn't spoken at all. "You had a chance to let me die and you didn't take it. I bet right now you're wishing you had. I've killed… a LOT of people, I've brought the city to its _knees_ , crippled the police force, and it's not even time to unwrap our presents!"

The inmates filled the panopticon with a roar of approval, evidently irritating the clown.

"Zip it!" He snapped, the sadistic joy on his face morphing into a scowl.

Heavy boot-steps sounded from behind the green haired man, and Bruce clenched his jaw as Bane came into view.

"Let's do this." His accented voice rang out across the hall.

"Okay, okay." The Joker huffed, stepping away from the warden and gesturing towards the huge man beside him.

"So, what our friend Bane holds in his hand is a heart monitor. Once he clamps it on, every beat of his vacant little heart will charge the battery…"

The Joker hopped backwards, settling himself onto a small wooden chair covered in wires sitting in the center of the elevator. "…on this electric chair. And when it's fully charged…" The clown pulled the chair's lethal headband onto his head, mimicking being zapped by its electricity and dissolving into a fit of laughter.

"So either you kill Bane-" The clown grinned down at him.

"No," Bruce interrupted. "I won't kill him."

"But you will." Bane boomed from the metal platform. "You will fight me with all your resolve, or you will die. Someone _is_ going to die; you, me, or the clown. The question of which of us it is – is in your hands."

One of the Joker's goons strapped the giggling clown to the chair, securing him in place, and Bane clamped on the heart monitor. As he did, a number of screens mounted on the walls of the panopticon came to life, lighting up and displaying each heartbeat detected by the luchador's monitor. The inmates roared their approval in their cells, only growing louder when Bane heaved himself over the elevator's railing and onto the hall's ground level to face the vigilante they all hated.

"A compassionate man would be home mourning the loss of his servant and life-long companion right now. Yet here you are." The man taunted, thankfully only loud enough for the two of them to hear. Nonetheless, the comment ignited a rage inside Bruce, reminding him of the fate this hulking man had nearly doled out to the only family Bruce had left.

As the vigilante's mind raced to come up with a plan, Bane charged, giving Bruce barely enough time to throw himself out of the way. The miss didn't seem to faze the luchador, turning on his heel to face his foe once again, a vicious smirk working its way onto his face.

As Bane prepared to charge again, Bruce began to wonder if this time he had finally gotten himself into a fight that he just couldn't win.

-V-

"This is it," Gordon announced, motioning towards the large metal door separating the two officers from the panopticon's second floor and pulling out his sidearm.

Laura nodded, readying her rifle and moving towards the door. It slid open silently, revealing the Joker strapped into what looked like an electric chair and Warden Joseph in the grip of two of the clown's goons. As the two officers crossed the bridge towards the platform, Laura looked down to see Batman on his back, struggling to keep from being crushed by a huge man whom she could only assume was the assassin called Bane. The man had a boot to the vigilante's throat, and seemed to be enjoying watching the caped man squirm and struggle to breathe. Laura shook her head, knowing the priority was the warden, but she hoped that whatever she and Gordon were going to do would be enough to allow Batman to escape.

"Don't move!" Gordon shouted at the two masked men on the platform, one of which held a knife to the warden's throat.

"Maybe _you_ shouldn't move." The one holding the knife retorted, gaze shifting from Gordon's pistol to her rifle. The second goon seemed to be doing much of the same, his grip on the warden slipping slightly as he looked to see if there was any way around the two officers.

Gordon fired on the man with the knife and Laura did the same on the one holding the warden, their bodies toppling backwards off the platform and onto the ground below, only feet from where Batman was still struggling with Bane. To his credit, it only took a moment for Warden Joseph to recover, shaking himself off and approaching the two officers whom had become his saviors.

"Jim," Laura called, nodding towards the still-charging electric chair.

"Oh, Good lord."

"Careful, Jim!" the administrator warned when the captain approached the clown and began to attempt to undo the straps keeping him in place. "When that chair goes off – that's two-thousand volts. You won't make it."

"You don't need to-" Gordon had just managed to undo the strap on one arm when the Joker elbowed him in the face, stunning the captain just long enough for the clown to steal his gun, putting him in a headlock and pressing the pistol to his temple.

"Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim! Have a seat, Jimbo! We'll fry together – like two little potato latkes!" The clown cackled.

Just then, a flurry of movement below caught the clown's attention and Laura fired her rifle, hitting the clown in the arm and causing him to drop Gordon. The captain scrambled away, glaring at the green haired man who seemed to be not at all put out by his loss of a captive.

"Oh, you're _feisty!_ " He laughed, grinning maniacally at her. "I like you."

An alarm sounded, causing all eyes to turn to the screens mounted on the wall as the display that once showed Bane's heartbeat suddenly went blank. Looking down, Laura saw Batman standing over the luchador's unmoving form, glaring up at the platform.

"He did it!" The Joker laughed, twirling around in a circle and taking aim at the two officers and the warden, seemingly unconcerned Laura still had her own gun trained on him.

"The game is over, Joker. Let them go!" Batman called from below.

"Yeah," Warden Joseph snapped, "Put the gun down, freak!"

"Warden…" Laura warned, not liking the way the grin stretched across the clown's face was fading into a scowl.

"How 'bout I put you down?" Joker snarled.

Out of her peripherals, she saw Gordon rush towards the warden, and not a second later the Joker fired, Gordon collapsing to the ground. Laura fired off a shot of her own, but the clown dropped to the floor at the last second, narrowly missing the bullet before popping back up again, gun now aimed at her.

"Choose wisely, dearie!" He warned as she began to tighten her finger on the trigger, nodding towards Gordon's prone form behind her.

Laura hesitated, and that was all the signal the clown needed before he began to back up towards the door. "Well, I'd love to stay and celebrate your victory," He called down to the vigilante below. "But I've got stockings to stuff, mistletoe to hang – and about fifteen skyscrapers to blow up before sunrise. _Ciao!_ "

As soon as the clown was out of sight, Laura dropped the gun and hurried over to Gordon, who was still lying on the cold metal of the platform.

"Jim? Did it get you below the vest?"

Gordon shook his head and motioned for her to help him stand, groaning as she helped him to his feet. "No, I'm fine. But he's got my gun."

"Gordon, Anderson, Joseph," Batman called from below, prompting Laura to look over the railing. "I need your help – to stop the Joker."

"Our help?" Gordon snapped. "You're the so-called vigilante. Or is one kill enough for you tonight?"

Batman shook his head and leaned over Bane's body, unstrapping the heavy vest the man wore. "Bane's in cardiopulmonary arrest. I have only minutes to resuscitate him before it's too late."

"You mean you didn't-" Gordon asked, shocked.

"That's not how I do things." Batman interrupted. "Now go."

Laura nodded and motioned for the two men to follow, scooping up her discarded rifle as they exited the platform. As they maneuvered through the ruins of Blackgate's halls, Gordon's radio crackled to life.

"Bullock to Gordon. You read me? You okay?"

"Harvey, I need you to secure every exit out of Blackgate – sewers, front doors, I don't care. The Joker cannot escape." Gordon said, quickly pulling the radio off his belt and lifting it to his face.

"We're on it."

As the captain replaced his radio back on his belt, Laura turned to him with a frown. "Any idea where to go from here? We have no idea where Joker even is, much less how to find him."

"There's a security office just down the hall," Warden Joseph spoke up, having kept silent since the trio's exit from the panopticon. "The cameras in this section should still be intact."

Laura nodded, following the warden's directions down the hall to the office. She motioned for the two unarmed men to wait outside, pushing the door open and scanning the interior. Seemingly untouched by the night's events, and more importantly, empty of any escaped inmates, Laura signaled for the men to hurry inside the office, shutting and locking the door behind them.

"Think you can find the Joker from here?"

The dark skinned man nodded at the captain's inquiry, seating himself at the computer desk. "Should be able to, just give me a minute."

A few moments later Warden Joseph motioned the two officers over, having accessed the correct camera. "Found him."

Laura watched as the clown sauntered down the halls of the prison, practically skipping over the corpses that littered the halls, both prisoner and guard alike.

"Wait," Laura asked, not able to shake the feeling that she'd seen that scenery before. "Isn't the execution chamber down that hall?"

"On the opposite end, yes." The administrator nodded. "But he's headed towards Death Row."

"Bullock to Gordon. We got the place secure. Any update?" The radio sounded again.

"Anderson and I found the warden," Gordon relayed into the radio. "I think the Joker's heading to Death Row."

"We've got the place surrounded," Bullock assured them. "No way he's gettin' out."

"You better be damn sure about that." Gordon snapped.

"I'm don't think that's what he wants."

Gordon turned to Laura, frowning. "What?"

"I don't think he wants to escape," Laura clarified. "That's not why he started the riot. He did it to lure Batman here to make him kill Bane. If he wanted to escape, he would have done it hours ago, long before we got here. He's not doing this to get out," She said, gesturing towards the carnage outside the office's door, "He's doing it to fuck with Batman. He's toying with him."

"But why?" The captain asked, leaning against the wall.

"No idea." Laura shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't have a reason. I don't think he's sane enough to need one. Could be he just likes to watch the world burn, and thinks it's fun to see Batman try and put out the fire."

Gordon shook his head, crossing the room and pulling open the office door, peeking down the thankfully-desolate hallway. "It doesn't matter. We have to stop him either way. Warden, stay down and stay behind us." The captain turned to Laura, his face grim.

"We're going after the Joker."

-V-

" _This is Captain James Gordon at Blackgate Prison, requesting immediate medevac! Warden Joseph has been shot. Repeat Warden Joseph is down."_

" _EMT chopper en route. ETA fifteen minutes."_

" _Tell them to hurry up!"_

The radio in Bruce's cowl crackled to life with radio calls as the vigilante made his way through the ruins of Blackgate's south wing, headed towards Death Row. His radio had been relaying to him the police's transmissions throughout his confrontation with Bane, and though he'd never admit to it, the long radio silence in between messages had unnerved him, and left that final message ringing in his ears.

 _This is Sergeant Laura Anderson in Blackgate Prison. The Joker has us pinned down in Death Row. Requesting reinforcements. Repeat, this is Sergeant Laura Anderson requesting reinforcements. Pinned down in Death Row in Blackgate!_

Shaking his head, Bruce continued forward down the hall. Gordon had confirmed Joseph to be injured, and there was no time to be concerned with anything else.

Spying a gap in the wall, Bruce peered down to the floor below, spotting Warden Joseph hunched over in a corner and gripping his side. The vigilante maneuvered his way through the broken prison bars and leapt down, landing with a thud and moving to kneel beside the injured man.

"Where are Gordon and Anderson?" He asked, assessing the administrator's injured side.

"S-sniper…" The man coughed out, pointing one shaky hand towards the overlooking ledge.

Bruce's head snapped to the right to see a man in a clown mask raising a rife, aimed directly at him. Before he could move out of the way, he found his path blocked by a familiar reptilian figure.

 _Killer Croc…_

"Would ya look at who's back for more?" The brute sneered, his mouth of razor-sharp teeth arranged into a grotesque grin. He reached down and grabbed Bruce by the back of the neck and raised him up to eye level, close enough that the vigilante could smell the crocodile man's rancid breath.

"I've had enough of you for one night." He replied through clenched teeth.

"Not yet you haven't," Jones snarled, drawing back one huge claw as if to eviscerate him.

A shot fired from the ledge, missing Bruce completely and hitting Croc in the shoulder, causing the brute to drop him and scuttle for the safety of the hall.

"Screw this," he spat as he retreated, hurrying as two more shots were fired in his direction "Want the Joker? Take 'im."

Bruce looked up to see Gordon vaulting himself off the ledge, while Anderson stayed firmly rooted to her perch, rifle trained on the direction Croc had slunk off to until the audible bang of the door sliding shut rang across the room. Then she too hoisted herself over the railing and dropped to the floor below, albeit somewhat easier than her superior had.

Before he could speak, Gordon's gaze shifted behind him, where when he turned, he found a large group of inmates had gathered since Croc's retreat.

"Help me keep these guys off the warden!"

Before Bruce could even shift into a fighting stance, a handful of shots were fired off into the gathered crowd, hitting a few inmates and sending the rest running back down the hall they'd come, dragging their injured comrades with them. The door slid shut behind them, and both he and Gordon turned around to see Anderson lowering her rifle, shooting them both an unimpressed look.

"You mean like that?"

"You didn't have to shoot them." Bruce snapped at her while Gordon hurried to the warden's side.

"Not all of us know Kung Fu," She shot back, scowling. "And anyways, you have bigger things to worry about. The Joker went through that door, towards the chapel. Go get him, and we can argue about crime fighting methods later."

After hesitating for a moment to process that Anderson had actually _dismissed_ him, Bruce hurried to the end of the room, the large metal door sliding open to reveal the entrance to the chapel. Turning the corner, the cold metal and concrete of the prison gave way to wood paneling and cut stone, bathed in the light of the candle-filled chandelier hanging overhead. Heaving open the heavy oak doors of the chapel, the vigilante stepped inside, scanning the room for the green-haired clown.

A few steps later he increased his pace, finding the Joker kneeling on the steps to the altar, giggling uncontrollably.

"Oh, Bats, what a night!"

With a snarl, Bruce grabbed the clown by the lapels of his jacket and heaved him off the steps, raising him high into the air.

"Fresh off a kill and back for more, eh?" He taunted.

"Bane's still alive." The masked man spat.

The wide grin spread across the Joker's face quickly faded into a frown as he frantically reached inside his jacket for the heart monitor. Pulling out the small device and watching it light up with each of Bane's heartbeats, he turned back to Bruce, scowling petulantly.

"Now that's not FUNNY."

Joker threw the device to the ground and swiftly pulled out the gun he'd pilfered off Gordon, pointing it towards Bruce's face. The vigilante dropped him to dodge any incoming shots, freeing the clown to sucker punch him in the face and aim the gun.

"All this – all this rage. Directed at me, and for what? You know, if you'd actually let me finish a sentence, you might learn something. You might learn we're not so different."

The vigilante knocked the gun away and planted a boot in the center of Joker's chest, sending him flying backwards through a pew and shattering it to pieces. Joker coughed out a laugh, attempting to get up as Bruce stormed towards him.

"Is all this for you, or for me? You must know I'm a lost cause. But there's still hope for you! Yes, I've got great hopes for you. So c'mon! Don't stop now!"

Bruce knocked the clown back with a series of punches, dazing him long enough for the vigilante to throw him to the front of the chapel, the green haired man slamming into the stained glass window and shattering it to pieces.

"You just can't get it through your thick skull." Joker snarled, standing up and gripping a shard of glass in each hand like daggers. "We both exist _because of them!_ "

"Give up," Bruce said, disgusted. "You've lost."

With a cackle, the clown slashed at him with the shards, but the vigilante was too fast, quickly disarming the green haired man and responding with a series of crushing blows, knocking him back onto the alter.

Despite his injuries, the Joker continued to laugh, albeit a gasping, pained laugh due to his surely broken ribs, further enraging the vigilante.

"That's why you do it, isn't it?" The clown sneered. "You like the way it feels. It's what you need."

With a snarl, Bruce hoisted the Joker off the alter and slammed him to the hard stone floor. He heard the breath leave the clown but the man continued on, as if completely unaffected by his injuries.

"Come on, baby! Beat me 'till you knuckles bleed! And why quit there? You know there's only one way to stop me."

Bruce felt his grip around Joker's throat tighten for a few moments before he pulled back his arm and punched the Joker as hard as he could, knocking the man's head back with a sickening crack and finally silencing the clown.

"Any one of my guys would have killed him."

Bruce turned to see Gordon striding into the room, eyeing the unconscious man behind him with an air of distain. Shaking his head, the vigilante stood up, picking up Gordon's gun from where the Joker had dropped it and handing it back to the police captain.

"This city deserves better than that."

"Anderson's guarding the door." Gordon explained, momentarily startling Bruce. He hadn't even realized his gaze had unconsciously shifted over the other man's shoulder towards the chapel's heavy oak doors, expecting to see the sergeant striding in behind her superior.

Sensing the other man was not going to acknowledge, much less respond to, his statement, Gordon sighed, looking down at the familiar firearm in his hand before raising it towards the caped man. "You know, my daughter thinks you're a hero, and she just might be right – But I still have to bring you in."

Bruce scowled at the older man, but before he could speak, Gordon's radio crackled to life.

" _Gordon – Come in! What's your 20?"_

"I'm in the chapel," Gordon spoke into his radio, turning his head away from the vigilante for a moment to answer. A rookie mistake, and one Bruce knew a man with Gordon's years of experience would never make except if he'd meant to.

A second later when the police captain turned back to where the caped man had once been standing, Gordon found himself alone in the chapel, Bruce having long since disappeared into the night.

-V-

Laura found herself standing in the bitter cold outside Blackgate Penitentiary, sneaking glances every few seconds at the father and daughter standing some distance away. Gordon had one arm wrapped around Barbara's shoulders, and a smile was spread across the redhead's face. They'd been talking for some time, now less heated than when Gordon initially found out she'd manipulated the medical examiner into giving her a ride to Blackgate in the middle of a prison riot. The sergeant smiled to herself, relieved to see the tension that had accumulated between the two over the last year to finally be gone.

Movement overhead drew her attention away from the two and Laura looked up, spotting a large dark shape gliding overhead, away from the prison and towards the city. As she watched Batman head off towards Gotham and disappear from sight, the sergeant shook her head. It was no wonder so many people had thought him to be some kind of supernatural being or demon – If she hadn't seen him up close and confirmed that he was, in fact, human, she might have thought much of the same if she'd seen him flying overhead in the dead of night. Even so, the sight still unsettled her a little, and Laura found herself absentmindedly playing with the cornicello hanging around her neck.

"Hell of a night, huh boss?"

Laura turned to see McKenzie walking towards her, a tired smile decorating the blonde's face.

She chuckled. "That's an understatement – Two prison riots, a bombing in the Diamond District, eight professional killers wreaking havoc across the city, Pioneers Bridge blown to ruins, and the police commissioner assassinated by an insane clown posing as one of the biggest crime bosses in the city, all within a nine hour period. The media's going to have a fucking field day tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" The detective snorted. "They're way ahead of you. Apparently Jack Ryder's already ripping us to pieces."

"You've got to be kidding me," Laura groaned, pulling out her phone to see for herself. Opening the GCTV app, she pulled up the livestream of _The Jack Ryder Hour_ and listened in, McKenzie peering at the small screen over her shoulder.

"… _our next guest, political strategist Dean Snyder has been following tonight's events since the start, more than eight hours ago. Dr. Snyder, let's start with you – what's your view?"_

The camera panned to a small, rat-like man in a tan suit, running a hand through his thinning tawny hair and frowning at the show's host.

" _Well Jack, it's a travesty. The ultimate failing of the justice system. A vigilante cleaning up our streets after countless deaths and bombings? What has happened to our police force?"_

"Our commissioner got bought out." Laura heard McKenzie mutter under his breath.

" _And what about James Gordon?"_ The little man continued on. _"He didn't exactly prove himself tonight–"_

" _Hold on a minute Dean,"_ A tall, dark skinned man interrupted from the seat closest to Ryder, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. _"Now I'm no defender of the GCPD or Captain Gordon for that matter – like you said, tonight's debacle is some reflection of his efficacy – but I can't see any police force in any municipality doing a substantially better job against criminals like this Joker character – or any of the hired killers he brought into town. I mean, these guys are a different breed. We've never seen anything like this."_

"Wait for it…" Laura muttered.

" _So for me, it's less a reflection on Gotham's cops and more of a reflection on the state of our country – a country where our mental health and education systems are so warped and broken that we produce criminals of this nature."_

"There it is." Laura sighed. "Nothing to do with corrupt city officials, a shitty economy, and crime bosses holding the police on a leash. No, it's the goddamn kindergarten teachers that're the problem."

" _You raise an interesting point Hank,"_ Ryder conceded, the camera panning back to the show's host. _"But what I'm wondering is what we'll do next–"_

" _No, it's not an interesting point."_ An accented voice interrupted from off-screen, causing the camera to turn towards the seat farthest from Ryder, in which sat a pale, balding man with a disdainful sneer painted across his face. _"It's just plain wrong. They're both wrong. This isn't about the police or the Bat-Man. It isn't about the state of our nation somehow churning out a dangerous new batch of the criminally-deranged. It's about the failing of one single institution. An institution which – in my view – represents the biggest threat to Gotham and its citizens. A time bomb, just waiting to go off."_

" _If tonight's events have taught us anything, it's that Blackgate is NOT the place to be housing our city's most dangerous offenders. Not one – but two prison breaks in the same night! All of tonight's tragedies would have been avoided if Gotham had a proper treatment facility for its top echelon offenders. A place with impenetrable security – where the most dangerous could be isolated, rehabilitated, and treated for their illness."_

" _A place like Arkham Asylum."_

-V-

As the roar of the Batwing faded to silence, Bruce exited the small plane, trudging past the Batcave's massive computer desk where Alfred waited patiently.

"I take it you will not be going out again this evening?"

Bruce snorted, methodically stripping himself of the Batsuit's damaged outer armor and placing it back in its case, leaving himself only in the flexible bodysuit underneath. Ignoring the ache from the many bruises he knew to be littering his body, Bruce finished replacing the armor from its housing and locked the case, the biometric scanner beeping cheerfully as the magnetic locks acquiesced to his commands. Stepping back, he crinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of himself – even with the armor gone, he still reeked of smoke and gasoline.

 _Christ, I need a shower._

"You'll be pleased to know the prisoners from Blackgate have already begun to be transferred to various penitentiaries pending the reconstruction of the prison. The Joker, in particular, is being transferred to Iron Heights as we speak." Alfred added, placing a covered platter on the Cave's desk, directly in front of where he knew Bruce would sit.

"Good." Bruce said, pointedly ignoring the hint about dinner and moving to stand in front of the keyboard. With a tap on its keys, the computer flashed to life, screen lighting up and displaying a file already open and left waiting for him. The vigilante scanned the page and raised an eyebrow, turning to the butler who was making his way back towards the elevator to the manor.

"I took the liberty of leaving Sergeant Anderson's file open for you, Master Bruce." Alfred called, boarding the elevator and shooting the younger man a pointed look. "I thought you might want to take a look at it for yourself."

Turning back towards the computer as the elevator ascended behind him, Bruce glanced up at the screen, the image of the now-familiar brunette taking up its majority, a small smile adorning her face. Frowning slightly, he moved the mouse over to the small 'X' at the corner of the file, letting it hover there for a moment. After a few seconds hesitation, the billionaire let out a huff of annoyance, moving the mouse away and glancing back to the elevator with a scowl, silently cursing the butler's meddling.

With a sigh of defeat, Bruce settled himself down into the computer desk's chair and began to read.


	6. Revelations

**Hello! I hope you all had a happy New Year. I'm glad I finally got this finished, as I've been eagerly anticipating this part of the story for months. Also, we're officially done with _Arkham Origins_ , and it's only a matter of time before we move on to _Cold, Cold Heart_. Thank you for sticking with me so far; I honestly didn't expect this story to get as much traction as is has, and the thought that you guys actually look forward to each update is really what gives me the motivation to write as fast and as best as I can. As usual, please review because I love hearing your thoughts, and I'll see you all in the next chapter!**

* * *

Christmas morning was unusually peaceful in Gotham City. The chaos of the night before had faded to a lull, allowing the citizens of that metropolis to go about their holiday plans as they'd originally intended before the actions of the Joker and his hired assassins brought into question whether there would even _be_ a Christmas Day to celebrate. All across the city, children were opening presents, parents were frantically cleaning in anticipation of their in-laws' arrivals, and, if only temporarily, it was as if the terrible events of Christmas Eve had never even happened at all. It was in this unusual moment of peaceful normalcy that Laura Anderson could be found curled up in bed, sound asleep and blissfully unaware of anything beyond her world of dreams.

That is, until she was rudely dragged awake by the shrill ringing of her phone.

Without even bothering to check whom was calling, she rolled towards her night table and yanked her phone off the charger, pressing it up to her ear and only just remembering to press the small green button on the screen to accept the call.

"Anderson speaking," She muttered groggily into the microphone.

" _Merry Christmas to you too, sis. Don't you sound fantastic?"_

"Jesus fucking Christ, Chris," The brunette groaned, rolling onto her back and blearily glaring up at her bedroom ceiling. "It's not even ten o'clock!"

As she grumbled to herself at her loss of a sleep-in morning, Laura could hear her brother cackling on the other end. _"Uh huh, that's why I called. Most people don't sleep in till the crack of noon."_

"They do when they don't get home from work until five in the morning." She grumbled petulantly.

" _Yeah, I caught some of that on the news this morning."_ Chris said, most likely making himself breakfast if the clanking noises emanating through the speaker were any indication. _"Dad did, too."_

Laura's head dropped back to the pillow with a groan. "Well, fuck."

" _Fuck indeed,"_ Chris agreed.

David Anderson was the type of man who put being a good father before everything else. Neither of the Anderson siblings could ever recall a baseball game, shooting competition, or piano recital that he did not attend, nor did a PTA meeting go by in which David was not in attendance. His devotion to the well-being of his children only increased after his divorce, fully intending on filling the role of both parents for his young son and daughter. He had always encouraged his children to follow their dreams, and had repeatedly assured them both throughout their childhoods that he would support their decisions, no matter what they chose as their path in life.

That being said, David had not taken it well at all when his eldest child expressed her desire to join the most notoriously corrupt police force in the history of the United States.

"Should I be expecting a lecture later?" Laura sighed, getting up out of bed and making her way to the small kitchen in her apartment.

" _You might have actually lucked out this time,"_ Chris told her as she turned a knob on the stove, turning on the burner underneath where her newly-filled teapot rested. _"Dad's mostly blaming the FBI; says none of it would have ever happened if they'd kept better track of hired killers. You'll probably just get the "I'm-Glad-You're-Safe-But-Make-Sure-To-Keep-It-That-Way Talk."_

" _I heard that, Christopher."_ Another voice filtered through the phone, followed by her brother cursing under his breath. The sound of the phone changing hands could be heard before the other voice spoke again.

" _Laura?"_

"Merry Christmas, Dad." The brunette yawned, fishing a tea bag out of the small box resting on her countertop. "And before you ask, yes, I'm fine."

" _Good."_ David sighed, his relief palpable. Then, almost as an afterthought, _"And Captain Gordon?"_

"Alive and well." Laura told him. "He's Acting Commissioner until Hill appoints a replacement for Loeb."

" _Best of luck to him,"_ She heard her father mutter under his breath.

The sergeant chocked back a laugh. "He's going to need it."

David sighed. _"I don't suppose I could persuade you to come up for a few days?"_

"'Fraid not," Laura said, lifting the teapot off the stove and pouring the now-boiling water into a mug. "After last night, the whole department's going to have to do overtime. I'm on-call until further notice."

David let out a defeated sigh. _"Well, I hope you can come over soon. Getting out of the city for a while would do you some good."_

"I'll visit as soon as things settle down around here," Laura assured him.

" _I'll hold you to it. Love you, kiddo."_

"Love you too, Dad." Laura said, shaking her head slightly at the nickname.

She heard a small click, signaling the end of the call, and put the phone down, sipping her tea and taking a look at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It was just after nine, and she knew she didn't have to be at work until four, but it was pointless to go back to bed. Draining the last dregs of her tea from the mug, Laura meandered her way to the bathroom for a shower, dreading the mountain of paperwork she knew was waiting for her.

-VI-

Two hours later, Laura found herself attempting to put a dent in the obscene amount of paperwork sitting on her desk, only half-paying attention to McKenzie's attempt to fill her in on that morning's goings-on.

"…And it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but just about everyone in city leadership is compromised now."

That got Laura's attention, head snapping up to look at the blonde detective leaning against her desk, attempting to make his way through a report of his own. "Wait, what? When did that happen?"

"Early this morning," He told her, nodding his head towards the stairs leading to the lower floors of the building. "Eddie Nashton ended up being on Black Mask's payroll. Well, the Joker's, actually. Apparently he's been collecting data for months about nearly every official in the city, and leaked it to the media about six o'clock this morning. Now, there are protesters outside City Hall calling for Hill's resignation and half the city council's under investigation. There was a ton of stuff on Loeb too, and enough about Grogan's connections to the Maroni family that he turned in his resignation this morning, effective immediately."

"Eddie Nashton?" Laura asked, brow furrowing. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"He made head of Cyber Crimes a few months back," McKenzie supplied.

The sergeant thought for a minute, trying to put a face to the name. Cyber hadn't been a division she'd ever had a reason to visit much, and despite working in the GCPD for the better part of a decade, she'd only ever met a handful of its members.

"Not the snotty guy with the glasses?"

"That's him," The blonde affirmed.

Laura had only interacted with Nashton a handful of times, but it'd been more than enough for her. She recalled the way he'd sneered at everyone around him, an air of (Undeserved, in Laura's opinion) superiority about him wherever he went. The few times she'd made her way down to Cyber, the sergeant had noted the way he'd snap at the others in his department, berating them for not accomplishing their work fast enough for his liking or not to the caliber he preferred, holding them to seemingly-impossible standards that evidently only he himself could meet. If that wasn't enough to sour her opinion of him, Laura could swear the last time she'd visited, he'd called her a mindless brute under his breath as she'd left.

"Christ, that guy was an ass. Well, Grogan won't be commissioner now, at least. That's something to look forward to."

McKenzie let out a huff of laughter and scurried to his desk as he saw Conway walk into the bullpen, likely to avoid a lecture from the captain, leaving the sergeant to her paperwork. With a sigh, she dove back in, letting out a silent prayer that today's work was the worst to come, though she sincerely doubted that would be the case.

A loud knock on her office door pulled her attention away from her work about an hour and a half later, just as she had gotten about a quarter of the way through her reports. She called for the visitor to enter, still not looking up from her papers, and only spared the figure entering her office a glance once they'd come within two feet of her desk.

When she did finally look up, the brunette nearly dropped her pen.

Standing before her was quite possibly one of the most handsome men Laura had ever seen. He cut an impressive figure, nearly six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and a fit build that just about any man would kill for. The man had a head of thick dark hair, high aristocratic cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, to say nothing of the pair of strikingly bright blue eyes fixed on her that Laura couldn't help but find familiar. He was decked out in a three-piece suit that the sergeant was sure was worth more than her yearly salary, with an expensive-looking black leather trench coat draped over one arm.

Though the sheer attractiveness of this man was certainly more than enough reason to catch her attention, it wasn't, in fact, what had shocked her. What had was his familiarity, having seen his figure often adorning the covers of the celebrity gossip magazines she'd frequently seen Montoya reading and advertisements for his company all across the city, though it had been nearly twenty years since she'd seen the man in person.

Standing before her was Bruce Wayne.

Thankfully, her moment of shock had only lasted a fraction of a second, and she quickly schooled her face into a mask of professionalism before he could notice her momentary lapse.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Wayne shot her a smile. "I'm looking for a Detective Driver? He called my office and said he'd like to speak with me."

Laura paused for a minute, trying to come up with what Driver would want with the billionaire standing in her office. She recalled Driver was assigned to a double-homicide in Park Row; Just the night before, multi-millionaire CEO Horace Riley and his socialite fiancée Clarissa Rodriguez had been gunned down by Ian Chase, Rodriguez's ex-lover whom was currently sitting in lockup over in Old Gotham. The bodies had been found in Crime Alley, only…

 _Only ten feet from where the Waynes were murdered_ , her brain finally supplied.

Nodding, she motioned for him to follow her. "Detective Driver isn't in right now, but his partner is."

Leading him down into the bullpen, Laura stopped in front of one of the desks, behind which sat a pretty blonde whom was looking increasingly frustrated with her computer. "Mr. Wayne, this is Detective Rachel Fey. Fey, this is Bruce Wayne. Driver called him about the Park Row case?"

Laura saw Fey's eyebrows skyrocket towards her hairline before recovering, standing up and quickly offering the man a hand to shake. "Y-yes. Uh, if you'll please sit, Mr. Wayne, we've just got a few questions for you."

Leaving her to it, Laura returned to her office and started back on the mountain of paperwork still waiting for her. It wasn't long before another knock sounded at her door, and when she looked up, Barbara stood in the place Wayne had only minutes before.

"How'd you manage to get stuck here two days in a row? And on Christmas, no less." Laura teased.

The redhead shrugged, plopping herself down into the chair in front of Laura's desk and pulling out her laptop. "Dad has to be here until late tonight anyway, so there was no point being at home by myself. At least here I can poke around in stuff."

Looking over the teenager's shoulder to check that the door to her office was firmly shut, Laura leaned forward. "Speaking of, how did that business with our, ah, _new friend_ go last night?"

Barbara smirked, looking up at her from behind the laptop screen. "Everything's taken care of. Penguin's stuck with six crates full of useless weapons, all thanks to the Batman."

Taking in Barbara's pointed look, Laura rolled her eyes at the teenager and let out a small huff of laughter. "Fine, fine, I'll say it; you were right and I was wrong. If I hadn't taken your advice last night, things would have gone a lot worse than they did. Happy?"

The redhead shot her a cheeky grin. "Very."

Laura shook her head and went back to her paperwork, though she couldn't quite keep a smile off her face. Out of her peripherals, she saw Barbara glance through the small window fixed in her office door and peer down towards the bullpen.

"Any particular reason the Prince of Gotham is sitting in the middle of your department?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Laura answered, not bothering to look up from her work, "And mind you, the only reason I'm even telling you is because I know if you really want to know you'll hack the computers anyways, but Driver called him here. Thinks he might be able to fill in some of the blanks on a double homicide on Park Row last night."

Barbara frowned. "The one with that CEO and his fiancée, right? He knew them?"

"Couldn't tell you, honestly," Laura shrugged, "It's Driver's case. Wouldn't surprise me though; there aren't that many people in Gotham in that tax bracket. Makes one's social circle a bit limited, I imagine."

A moment of silence passed, and Laura thought Barbara had dropped the issue, before…

"Huh. He's pretty hot, though."

Laura let out a snort of laughter, and Barbara shot her a look. "What? You don't think so?"

"Oh, he's hot," Laura agreed. "Just not much else."

"What," The redhead teased, "You don't think he's got a thoughtful mind and a heart of gold under all that Armani?"

"I mean," The brunette laughed, "That if half of what Montoya's told me from her _Gotham Insider_ subscriptionis true, the man's so shallow I could stand in a puddle of him and not get my feet wet. Not even Adonis could make up for that."

"Ouch, harsh." Barbara grinned. "Not your type, then?"

"Definitely not."

-VI-

Two weeks ago, if anyone had told Chuck McClary that he'd be looking to join up with Penguin's gang, he'd have told them they were insane. He had a steady job, a wife who depended on him, and a baby on the way, he'd tell them, and he wasn't about to jeopardize all that by getting involved with Cobblepot and his lot. He wasn't his good-for-nothing brother-in-law, after all.

Then again, two weeks ago he hadn't known the owner of the small hat shop in which he worked was secretly a serial killer, and unlike two weeks ago, he was now unemployed with a wife who depended on him and a baby on the way. _It's funny,_ he thought to himself, _how much things can change in such a short amount of time_.

"Come on, Chuckie! Mr. Cobblepot ain't got all night!"

Kieran, said good-for-nothing brother-in-law, threw one arm around his shoulders, hurrying him along the docks lining the east side of Amusement Mile, as if sensing Chuck's sudden hesitation. The man led the two a bit further down the docks, his easy swagger in stark contrast to his companion's nervous demeanor, until the pair arrived in front of a large black ship, huge white letters painted on the side announcing its notorious name to all within sight.

The Final Offer.

"Ease up, will 'ya Chuckie? Christ, you're making _me_ nervous!" Kieran laughed, slapping his brother-in-law on the back before leading him up the gangplank and onto the deck of the ship. "Now, just follow my lead and you'll be fine. Mr. Cobblepot's looking for a bunch 'a new guys for somethin' _big_ , and with the Bat fuckin' everything up, he ain't got the luxury 'a being picky. So long as ya don't do somethin' stupid, you'll be bringing home a big, fat paycheck in no time!"

The two made their way through the bowels of the ship, taking more than a few detours to avoid the many corridors that were flooded with seawater. After what seemed like an eternity, the pair emerged in a large, arena-shaped room packed to the brim with men Chuck thought looked more appropriate in a prison yard than on the streets of Gotham. Shooting his brother-in-law a wink, Kieran pushed his way through the crowd towards the other end of the room, leaving Chuck alone.

After a few minutes milling about and trying desperately not to be noticed, the room's attention was grabbed by a small, hunched man appearing on the balcony overhead. A roar of approval emanated from the gathered crowd, eager to get the meeting started, and the appearance of their employer signaling that their wish was soon to come true.

"All right, settle down, you lot! We've got a lot 'a work to do, and not 'a lot of time to do it." Penguin snapped, his accented voice carrying across the arena. "After the fiasco we got landed in last night, somebody started rumors that we were down an' out. That some wanker in a clown costume could get the best 'a us! Ha! A load 'a shite if I every 'eard it. No lads, what we got is an opportunity on our 'ands! With Black Mask gone, ain't nobody in our way from takin' over Gotham 'cept the Bat, and all we need to put 'im in the ground is an edge."

Penguin shot the crowd a nasty grin. "An' I got just the thing."

Booming footsteps sounded from behind the gathered group, and the whole room promptly turned at the sound. A murmur went through the crowd, ranging from exclamations of surprise to shocked cursing to muted awe. With slight hesitation, Chuck turned around to see what had caused such a fuss, and froze in terror at the sight. Struck with the realization of just how far in over his head he was, the former hat-maker's vision blurred as he suddenly began to feel woozy.

The last thing Chuck saw before he fainted was a pair of glowing red eyes.

-VI-

 _"…And in other news, prominent political activist Quincey Sharp has begun lobbying the Gotham City Council for funds to reopen Arkham Asylum. First making his plans known last night on_ The Jack Ryder Hour _, Sharp's move has been met with overwhelming support from Gotham's citizens, many of whom, like Sharp, have serious doubts about the capabilities of Blackgate Penitentiary to hold Gotham's most dangerous criminals following the two prison riots that took place on Christmas Eve. The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, more commonly referred to as Arkham Asylum, opened in 1921 and remained in operation until fifteen years ago, when it was closed due to the deinstitutionalization policies adopted by the city council, with all convicted criminals then being incarcerated into Blackgate Penitentiary. Estimates for the cost of renovating and reopening the asylum…"_

Laura was only partially paying attention to the news, most of her attention fixed on the half-dozen chicken cutlets frying in the pan before her. Checking them one last time to make sure they were thoroughly cooked, Laura scooped the cutlets out of the pan and stacked them onto a nearby plate, watching as the grease from the cutlets soaked into the paper towel underneath. The brunette took the plate from the counter and placed it on the adjacent breakfast bar, leaving the cutlets to cool for a moment while she made her way to her bedroom to change.

Laura quickly shed her work clothes and tossed them into her hamper, redressing herself in her customary sleepwear of sweatpants and an oversized tee-shirt. As she did, the sergeant noticed her clothes from the previous day strewn across her bedroom floor, as she'd been far too tired to bother with putting them away. Letting out a huff, Laura scooped them up and made to throw them in the hamper; she knew that if she didn't do it now, she'd end up putting it off until they hadn't moved for two weeks. As she picked her discarded jeans off the floor and threw them towards the wicker basket in the corner of the room, she noticed a small, shiny object fall out of one of the pockets and land on the floor. Frowning, Laura picked up the object to inspect it, and recognized it instantly.

The flashdrive from the Park Row Sewage Plant.

The little object was much the same as she'd seen it only the night before, its bright metallic red surface still merrily reflecting the light, no worse off than it had been when she'd plucked it out of the wreckage of Bane's computers. Laura frowned at the little device, having forgotten she'd even picked it up, silently debating on what to do with it. Technically, just being in the possession of the flashdrive was withholding evidence, and even with Gordon as Acting Commissioner, it could cost Laura her badge if anyone found out. That being said, if whatever was on the drive somehow involved Bane, shouldn't someone at the GCPD take a look at it?

" _Leave another assassin for us in there?"_

" _No."_

The memory of her short meeting with Batman outside the sewage plant flashed back to her, and Laura recalled the angry, almost enraged look on the vigilante's face as he stormed out of the plant. _Something_ down there had upset him, and at the time she'd thought it was another failed assassination attempt. But now…

 _Now it doesn't make sense,_ Laura thought to herself. _The Joker's plan all along was to lure Batman to Blackgate to kill Bane, and Bane had known that. He wouldn't have confronted him in the sewage plant, and there was no point in rigging the computer to blow if he wasn't planning on killing him there and then. Unless…unless Batman was the one who destroyed the computer,_ Laura realized, the pieces beginning to click into place. _Which means Bane had something on him. Something he was lording over Batman that was sensitive enough to warrant setting off a military-grade explosive to destroy any evidence in order to keep it quiet. Which then begs the question…_

"What did Bane want you to see?" She murmured at the drive.

Dinner forgotten for the moment, Laura hurried out to her apartment's small kitchen and sat herself down at the breakfast bar, pulling over her laptop from where it rested on the opposite end. Barely waiting for the machine to boot up, the brunette inserted the drive into the USB port on the side, watching with anticipation as the computer processed the files the small device contained. A second later, the drive's memory opened up, and she quickly scanned the contents of the drive. Oddly enough, there was only one file; a short video, only about five seconds long.

Frowning, Laura opened the file, watching as the clip played. The screen lit up with the image of Batman kneeling in the snow on the roof of the Gotham Royal Hotel, awash in the light of the spotlights mounted on the police helicopters she could hear hovering off-screen. The vigilante turned towards the camera, or rather whomever it had been planted on, a scowl written across his face.

" _You just ran out of time."_ He said, a second before the window faded to black.

Laura let out a huff, quickly playing the video a second time and then closing the window to check the file's memory again when the clip again revealed nothing. But, just as before, there was nothing on the drive, nothing but that single five-second video from atop the Gotham Royal Hotel that seemingly revealed nothing. Nothing, in Laura's opinion at least, that anyone could make out anything compromising from and certainly nothing to warrant the sort of reaction Batman had displayed the night before.

" _You just ran out of time."_

Laura's head snapped up, hurriedly looking around the room to check that she was alone. Affirming that she was, she quickly checked her computer, sure she'd closed the video and hadn't set it to repeat, but upon inspection, it proved to indeed be closed. Frowning, she scanned the room again, freezing in place as she remembered she'd left the television on in the living room. Grabbing her laptop, she practically sprinted across the apartment's open layout, tossing the computer down on the couch and diving for the remote, quickly rewinding the then-playing GCTV News.

"… _And in celebrity news, GCTV's very own Vicki Vale was able to interview local celebrity and Wayne Enterprises owner and CEO Bruce Wayne this Christmas Eve, though to some mixed results. Take a look!"_

The camera cut to Wayne and Vale standing in front of what looked to be the Wayne Enterprises building in the Coventry District, the previous night's blizzard only just beginning in the form of a few flurries.

" _No man is an island, Bruce. You've been back for almost two years now – you can't expect me to believe that Gotham's most eligible bachelor is spending another Christmas alone."_ The blonde reporter stated, tilting the small microphone in her hand towards the billionaire.

" _You just ran out of time."_ Wayne snapped, walking off-screen and ignoring Vale's attempts to call him back.

The sergeant sat there for a moment, shocked at what she'd just heard, before frantically replaying both the short video and the interview, not quite sure she wasn't, in fact, hallucinating.

" _You just ran out of time."_

" _You just ran out of time."_

" _You just ran out of time."_

Laura shakily sat herself down on the couch, not sure how much longer her legs would support her, as she attempted to process the information she'd stumbled upon. She'd never have believed it if she hadn't heard it with her own ears, but in retrospect, it began to make sense. The high-tech suit, the military-grade equipment, the nearly decade-long absence from Gotham with seemingly no explanation… it all led to a single, inescapable conclusion that left Laura utterly stunned.

 _Bruce Wayne is the Batman…_


	7. Preparations

**Hello all! Hope everything has been going well. I really wanted to get this delivered in a timely manner, and thankfully this time I did. I'm really excited for the upcoming chapters, because we'll get into Cold, Cold Heart and then after that, I really get to take the reins on where things go. As always, please review, since I love hearing what you guys have to say, and I'll see you all in chapter eight!**

* * *

"Anderson, you all right?"

Laura's head shot up from where she'd been staring at the wood grain of her desk, McKenzie's voice snapping her out of her reverie. The detective in question was frowning at her, his concern at her odd behavior written all over his face. Laura could hardly blame him; she usually made a point to be as consistent and professional as possible, not giving anyone an opportunity to call her abilities into question as an excuse to get rid of her, but for the last two days, she'd been spacy as hell. The sergeant forced a small smile onto her face and waved the blonde detective off, attempting to assuage his worries.

"I'm fine. I've just got a lot on my mind right now, and I've been a little distracted. What's up?"

"Gordon wants to see you." He said, jerking his thumb back towards the direction of the captain's office. "You might want to hurry, he said it was important."

"Thanks, Ben."

McKenzie nodded, though she could tell he didn't quite believe her, and exited her office. As soon as the door closed behind him, Laura let out a sigh and buried her head in her hands.

It'd been two days since she'd rediscovered that damnable flashdrive and discovered Bruce Wayne was Batman, and her life had been a mess ever since. Once she'd realized exactly what she was in possession of, she'd smashed the little thing to bits, put it in a frying pan, doused it with nail polish remover, and set it on fire. If anyone found out she had the drive or knew what was on it, Laura would be in more trouble than she could handle. The secret of who was really under that cowl was more valuable than gold, and the likes of the Joker, Penguin, and Black Mask would kill her for it without hesitation. She couldn't hand it over to Gordon either, as she knew the acting commissioner would be honor-bound to use that information to arrest Wayne, as no matter how quickly the captain was coming around to the idea of working with the vigilante, the Batman was still technically a wanted criminal. The rest of the GCPD couldn't be trusted either, as most were still more loyal to Cobblepot, Sionis, or Rupert Thorne's cash than the law. And Wayne may not have any family left in this world, but the man had friends, colleagues, employees… hundreds of people that could be put in danger if anyone knew he was Batman.

 _Not to mention what he'd do to me if he found out I knew_ , her mind supplied darkly. That was the part that scared Laura the most, if she was going to be honest with herself. While Wayne had proved himself a capable combatant and a valuable ally in the never-ending battle to rid Gotham of crime, the man was otherwise a complete unknown. Laura was sure the irresponsible, fun-seeking playboy persona she'd originally taken at face-value was a farce to throw off any suspicions as to whom the Batman really was, and she had no idea as to the character of the man behind the mask. While his actions and dedication to helping the city was surely admirable, any man who dressed up in a high-tech bat costume to beat up hardened criminals with his bare hands was at least a little fucked up in the head, and she had no idea how far he'd go to keep his secret safe. Bane had known who he was, she knew, and they'd found him beaten, bloody, hanging upside down like a chicken on a rack, and with brains more scrambled than the eggs she'd had for breakfast. If he could do that to someone like Bane, Laura was reluctant to even think about what he could do to her.

With some reluctance, Laura dragged herself away from her desk and into Gordon's office, where the captain in question was leaning over his desk, angrily squinting at the contents of some report.

"McKenzie said you wanted to see me, Jim?"

The man looked up from his desk, slightly startled at her sudden appearance, evidently so engrossed in his work, he'd missed her entrance. "Oh, Laura. Didn't hear you come in. What do you know about Ferris Boyle?"

Laura frowned. "He's some corporate big-wig, right? CEO of some company or another?"

"GothCorp." Gordon nodded. "And he's receiving this year's Humanitarian of the Year award."

"Good for him." Laura said warily, still not sure where the captain was going with this train of thought. "Is he under investigation or something? Guys like that usually go for more white-collar stuff than my department."

"No, nothing like that." The redhead sighed. "Some charity foundation is holding a party for him on New Year's Eve, and a representative of the police department is expected to attend. When the invitation was issued, Loeb was still in charge, but now…"

"Now that you're Acting Commissioner, you're the one expected to go." Laura finished.

"Exactly," The captain sighed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, "But after Christmas Eve, I've got so much to do, I can't waste time standing around at some party making small-talk with trust-fund babies and rich old widows."

"And you want me to go instead?" The sergeant guessed.

Gordon looked at her from over the rim of his glasses, almost as if he was reluctant to even ask. "Would you mind?"

Laura thoughtfully tapped her chin as if contemplating the request, and the captain rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "Well, if I _really_ have to…I guess I could cut you some slack. This time."

"Your generosity is inspiring." The redhead mumbled, shaking his head at her, though he couldn't keep himself from smiling. "The party's starts at ten o'clock, but you might want to head out a little early. Wayne Manor's a bit of a drive."

"Hold on, the party's at Wayne Manor?" Laura said, nearly chocking on her own words.

"Of course it is," Gordon frowned at her, raising an eyebrow at her odd reaction. "Didn't I mention that before? Bruce Wayne is the one throwing the damn thing."

-VII-

"Lys, what do you wear to a high-class party?"

Laura stood in the bedroom of her apartment, dejectedly staring at the contents of her closet. She'd gone through the occupants of each and every hanger twice, but nothing she found was appropriate for the less-appealing-by-the-second party for Ferris Boyle. She had plenty of jeans and dress shirts and slacks, but when it came to non-work appropriate attire, her wardrobe seemed to be coming up short. So, when the brunette had found herself at a loss and desperately hoping to avoid a long and drawn-out trip to the mall, she'd fallen back on the motto she'd followed since elementary school; when in doubt, call Alyssa.

" _Depends, how high-class are we talking?"_

Alyssa Valentine had been Laura's best friend since the former had moved into the townhouse adjacent to that of the Andersons' when the girls were in third grade, and the two had been practically inseparable ever since. The girls had grown up together, gone to school together, and even both chose to uphold the law as the focus of their careers; Laura as an officer in the GCPD and Alyssa as a prosecutor in the Gotham City District Attorney's office, which, following Alyssa's recent appointment to Assistant District Attorney, kept the two women in frequent contact, even in the professional world.

"Award-Ceremony-Hosted-By-Bruce-Wayne kind of high-class." Laura sighed.

" _How in the hell did you manage to get yourself roped into that?"_ Alyssa laughed.

"Long story," The detective grumbled into her cell's microphone, glaring at her closet. "But seriously, what the hell am I supposed to wear? I don't even know what to look for; I haven't worn a dress since our high school graduation."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before the lawyer answered. _"What about that dress you were supposed to wear to your cousin's wedding? The green one?"_

"You mean the one you made me drop $200 on?" The brunette grumbled as she searched the shelf above the closet's hanger rack for the box containing the dress, knowing she'd shoved it somewhere up there and forgotten all about it upon getting wind of said wedding's cancelation.

" _Don't complain,"_ Alyssa admonished from the other end. _"At least you don't have to shopping now, right?"_

"Fair point," Laura sighed, pulling the white box down from the shelf and draping its contents across her bed, eyeing the garment critically.

The gown itself was not overly-fancy, a simple floor-length infinity dress with its two bands long-ago twisted into a halter style, the excess fabric wrapped around the waist into the shape of an 'X'. The material was a stunningly soft velvet that was surprisingly comfortable to wear, dyed a rich bottle-green that the brunette conceded _had_ actually looked quite good on her. There was nothing wrong with it that Laura could pick out as unlikable, she was forced to admit, which had been part of the reason Alyssa had been able to convince her to buy it in the first place. That, and the fact that by the time Alyssa had pointed out that particular dress, the two been shopping for the better part of four hours and Laura would have agreed with anything at that point in order to go home.

" _So, does that invitation come with a plus-one?"_

Laura let out a huff of laughter, grabbing a hanger out of the closet and hanging the dress on the back of her bedroom door.

"This again?"

" _Yes, 'This again',"_ The lawyer said, only partially kidding. _"Seriously Laur, when was the last time you went out on a real date?"_

The sergeant sighed, thinking back. "Must have been when I was dating Paul."

" _And that was what, four years ago?"_

"Two," Laura corrected, already regretting letting the conversation get this far.

" _Fine, two. That's still a while. You need to get out there again, go have some fun!"_

"I need to 'go have some fun'?" Laura monotoned. "Last time I checked, _you_ were the one who got into a fight with Meredith Stannard about, and I quote, 'being perfectly happy single, and not needing a man to make me feel fulfilled in life'. Or were you just saying that because she got nasty about you not having a prom date?"

" _It had nothing to do with my lack of a prom date."_ The other woman huffed. There was a long pause on the other end, and the brunette wondered for a moment if the line had disconnected. Just as she was about to lift the phone away from her ear to check, the sergeant heard her friend let out a long sigh.

" _Do you remember those books you used to read as a kid? The one about the princess who runs away to be a servant for a dragon?"_

"Yeah, _The Enchanted Forest Chronicles_. Pretty sure I've still got them around the house somewhere. Why?"

" _Do you remember what you said when I asked why the princess agreed to marry the king? Why she'd get married when she ran away to avoid marriage in the first place, and was happy with her life with the dragon?"_

"Because she loved him and he made her happy," Laura conceded. "That just because she enjoyed her life as it was, it didn't mean she couldn't be just as happy, if not happier, with him as a part of it."

" _My point exactly._ _Laura, tell me honestly; Are you really happy with your life as it is? It couldn't get any better?"_

"I'm…content." The sergeant admitted, realizing her friend had a point.

" _That's what I'm talking about, right there."_ The lawyer explained. _"Laur, you're my best friend, a great cop, and not to kiss your ass, but you're one of the best people I've ever known. You deserve a hell of a lot more out of life than 'content'."_

Laura let out a defeated sigh, sitting herself down on the edge of her bed and shaking her head. "You know, I suddenly feel really bad for every sucker that lands himself in a cross-examination with you."

" _Still won't help them."_ Alyssa laughed before turning serious once more. _"Listen, I'm not asking you to sign up for speed-dating and throw yourself at every hot guy you see, but if someone does come along and you think things might have a chance, promise me you'll keep an open mind?"_

"Fine," Laura grumbled. "I promise. Happy now?"

" _I'll be happy when I'm helping you pick out baby clothes, but this will do for now."_

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

-VII-

"How's it coming, McTaggart?"

Kieran looked up from the crate of weapons he'd been elbow-deep in, huffing in annoyance at the interruption when he was very clearly busy. Once he'd turned around and gotten a look at the man who'd spoken, though, the Irishman couldn't keep a scowl off his face.

Jack Hanes was a no-good, cowardly, lying bastard, if Kieran was going to give his honest opinion. Before Christmas Eve, the guy had worked for Black Mask, but jumped ship the second Sionis got hauled off to prison, and hadn't even waited to see if the charges were going to stick before finding himself a new boss, and even then complained about how Penguin's operation was run every chance he got. In the week he'd been in Cobblepot's employ, he'd managed to piss off three-quarters of the gang, been nearly shanked twice, and stuck his nose in places it had no business being more times than anyone could count. If it came down to it, Kieran would rather be stuck with his wimpy, goody-two-shoes brother-in-law watching his back rather than this prick, and that was saying something. At least Chuckie wasn't a squealer.

"It's comin', and that's all you need to know." Kieran said, shoving a submachine gun in the other man's hands.

Hanes looked down at the weapon, eyeing it critically with a sneer on his face. The Irishman briefly wondered if he could get away with shooting the ungrateful bastard when Mr. Cobblepot wasn't looking.

"This is what we're using? Christ, at least when I was with Black Mask, Sionis got us M16s. Penguin must be really fuckin' desperate if this is all we've got."

"Listen here you little shit…" Kieran started with a snarl.

"What?" Hanes interrupted, "You know it's true! Come on, McTaggart, get with the goddamn program. Cobblepot's done, and everyone knows it. Gotham's ripe for the taking, and the best he can pull out of his hat is some freak in a Halloween costume with a supped-up ice dispenser? And instead of hitting something that might actually get us paid, we're just breaking into some rich boy's mansion to off some corporate jackass! You know what? Fuck this, I'm done. And if you had even half a brain in that ginger head of yours McTaggart, you'd be too."

"Is that so?"

Kieran stiffened as the electronic voice rang out from behind him, drawing the room's attention to the figure the Irishman could hear crossing the room with even, booming footsteps. The redhead's head snapped around, quickly backpedaling out of the newcomer's path as the suited man made his way towards Hanes who could only stand rooted to the ground, frozen in terror. As Cobblepot's new ally came to a stop in front of the blonde man, staring down at him with little more than mild annoyance as he reached for his weapon and pointed it at him, Kieran almost, _almost_ felt a small twinge of pity.

"C-come on man, please!" Hanes begged, sinking down to his knees and holding his arms outstretched as if trying to placate the looming figure before him. "I-I was just running my mouth, I didn't really mean it, I swear!"

"Save your pleading for someone foolish enough to believe it." The blue-hued man said as the air filled with the telltale high-pitched whine of his cold weapon powering up.

The man looked down at Hanes through the huge glass dome of his suit, frowning at him for a moment as if confused, but seemingly unfazed by the tears streaming down the blonde man's face as he brokenly pleaded for his life.

"The thought of killing a man should turn my stomach, but as I look at you now…I feel nothing."

Though it was hardly the first time Kieran had seen a man killed, he couldn't help but flinch when Hanes' frantic begging was cut short with a scream, and if the deafening silence that fell over the room was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one left feeling uneasy of Penguin's new ally.

"Make whatever preparations you must," The man's electronic voice rang out across the room as he made his way past the frozen corpse that was all that remained of Jack Hanes, the gathered crowd scurrying to get out of his way. "We leave for Wayne Manor within the hour."

"I have an appointment with Ferris Boyle, and I intend to keep it."

-VII-

The drive to Wayne Manor was longer than Laura remembered.

Granted, the last time she'd been to Wayne Manor, she'd been nine and had been far too busy listening to her mother chat about how exciting it was to be able to attend one of Martha Wayne's famous Halloween parties to notice how long the drive really was from the Anderson's townhouse in the East End to the Wayne's nineteenth-century manor nestled in the mountains twelve miles outside the city limits. The drive from Laura's current apartment in the Bowery was even longer, with traffic having to be redirected out of the city, through Bristol Township, and back in the other side to get between New and Old Gotham now that the Pioneers Bridge was out of commission for at least the next six months.

As Laura maneuvered her car through the traffic that spanned across the William Finger Memorial Bridge, she attempted to dispel the sinking feeling that grew worse and worse with each passing mile. The invitation the Wayne Foundation had issued to the GCPD hadn't mentioned anyone by name, and the RSVP had already been sent out when Loeb was still commissioner. No one at the Foundation knew she was coming, so far as she was aware, Bruce Wayne included. Still, Laura couldn't help but feel anxious at the possibility of coming face-to-face with the man, now that she knew the secret of how he spent his nights, and he still in the dark about her ill-acquired knowledge. She could only pray that if she did encounter the billionaire she didn't accidentally let anything incriminating slip, lest she find out to exactly what lengths Bruce Wayne was willing to go to keep his identity safe.

With that cheery thought ringing around in her head, Laura turned her car onto the exit at the base of the bridge, heading further into Bristol Township. As she steered her Chevy along the winding mountain roads and the scenery of mansion after mansion gave way to lonely stretches of land and thick copses of trees, the brunette began to think she'd entered the wrong address into her GPS. Ten minutes after she'd last passed by any trace of civilization, she finally came across a gate wide enough for three cars to pass through without difficulty set into a tall brick wall, a large 'W' standing proudly at the top of the ornate wrought-iron structure. As the gates swung open at her car's approach, Laura made her way down the mansion's long driveway, getting her first glimpse of Wayne Manor in nearly twenty years.

Though Laura recalled feeling awed by the nineteenth-century estate from when she was a child, her fuzzy memories did the property no justice. Even compared to the other impressive homes she'd passed on her way through Bristol Township, Wayne Manor was a sight to behold. The building itself was enormous, standing four stories tall and boasting three wings, not including the circular tower attached to the building's south side. A set of cream-colored marble steps led up to a pair of wide mahogany doors framed on three sides by an ornate pattern of frosted glass, flanked on either side by Corinthian pillars carved from the same stone. Opposite the doors stood a bronze statue set atop a tall slab of stone, cast in the likeness of some long-dead Wayne and overlooking the three acres of well-manicured lawn between itself and the tall brick wall bordering the property. The driveway, comprised of a light-colored gravel rather than concrete or asphalt, led from the gate to the front of the house between the steps and the statue, looping back around to the wide gate through which she had just passed. Off to the side of the house, the sergeant spotted what looked to have once been a large stable, now converted into a massive multi-car garage. As Laura stepped out of her car and handed her keys off to the awaiting valet, the thought crossed her mind that it seemed more like she was attending a party on the set of _Downton Abbey_ rather than at a home only twelve miles from her small apartment.

Slipping the valet a ten as she walked past, Laura made her way up the steps and into the main hall of the manor. Before she could have a good look around, the brunette was ushered over to a small table where a handful of college-aged men in vests and bow ties were checking bags. Handing over the small purse she'd brought with her, Laura snorted in amusement when the young man's face paled once he spotted the small handgun she'd placed inside. Gingerly holding the bag out in front of him as if it were a bomb, the man asked her to wait in a shaky voice before retreating into the closed-off wing behind him, reappearing a few minutes later alongside a stern-looking man with graying hair and a thin mustache. The older man snatched the bag out of the boy's hands before saying something to him sharply that Laura couldn't quite make out before turning around to face the table of incoming guests. When the man's eyes landed on her, Laura saw a look of surprised recognition flash across his face before schooling his features once again into a neutral expression. The brunette frowned slightly at the odd reaction, positive she'd never seen the aging man before and unsure as to why he seemed to recognize her.

"I assume this is yours, miss?" The man asked, placing the bag down on the table between them and opening it slightly to sift through the contents.

"That it is," The sergeant responded. "My badge should be in there as well, if you'd like to check."

The man hummed in affirmation, pulling out the small wallet-like piece of leather and scanning the credentials hanging opposite the GCPD shield, one eyebrow raised. "And do you usually bring firearms to charity events, Sergeant Anderson?"

"I usually bring them everywhere," Laura laughed. "Regulation states that all GCPD officers are required to be armed at all times, both on and off duty. Failure to do so leads to disciplinary action, up to and including termination of employment, and frankly sir, I'd really like to keep my job."

The man stifled a chuckle and replaced her badge in her purse, handing the bag back to her and waving a hand in the direction of a large room off to the side in which it seemed the guests were gathering. "Very well, so long as it remains unseen, I don't believe we will have a problem. The ballroom is just over there, you may head on through."

"Thank you," Laura said, shooting the man a smile. "Have a good evening, Mr.….?"

"Pennyworth," The man replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a small smile. "And to you as well, Miss Anderson."

Turning her back on the security table, Laura made towards the wide doorway the aging man had indicated, maneuvering her way through the large groups of socialites milling in the main hall. Pushing past the throngs of Gotham's elite, the sergeant finally crossed the threshold into Wayne Manor's ballroom, a sudden feeling of apprehension pooling in her gut as she did so. Taking a drink off a passing waiter's tray, the brunette frowned at herself as she sipped the champagne, trying to shake off the unusual feeling of anxiety that came over her as she made to mingle with the rest of Wayne's guests.

 _After all,_ Laura reasoned with herself, _this is just some charity event for a bunch of millionaires. What's the worst that can happen?_


	8. Ballroom Blitz

**Hello all! I'm surprised I was able to get his out on schedule, as it took me the better part of the month just to sit myself down long enough to write it. This was actually one of the more difficult chapters for me to write, as this is the only chapter that is one continuous stream of events without switching the point of view. Pretty happy with it, though. As always, please review as it really makes my day to hear from you guys and get your perspective on how the story is progressing. Private messaging is always nice too, if reviewing isn't your thing. Well, I'll let you get to it. I hope you like this chapter, and I'll see you all in the next update!**

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Standing in the grand ballroom of Wayne Manor surrounded by throngs of Gotham's wealthiest and most powerful, Laura was bored out of her mind.

To say the evening had been uneventful would be an understatement; Gotham's elite were far more cliquey than the sergeant had anticipated, and while the rich and powerful milled about in their groups of wealthy heirs and socialites, Laura had been pointedly avoided by the rest of the crowd, sequestered to a small corner of the room with nothing to do but admire the architecture of the building. While the brunette normally wouldn't have minded avoiding awkward small-talk with the rest of Wayne's guests, even the impressive décor of Wayne Manor could only hold her attention for so long, and after two hours of staring at baroque columns and ceiling frescoes, she began to wonder if it would reflect poorly on the department if she skipped out early.

As Laura looked out into the sea of people from where she was leaning up against one of the walls of the ballroom, she couldn't help but remember why she avoided formal parties like this like the plague. Growing up, her mother had been one of the curators at the Gotham Museum of Military History, and Laura had always dreaded the fundraising balls for the museum her mother would inevitably drag the rest of the family to. She and her brother had always been expected to sit still and act polite while rich old women cooed over them and pinched their cheeks, and pretend to be enraptured with the stories their husbands told about their supposedly-vast contributions to some war effort or another (Though always from cushy stateside offices, even a young Laura was quick to note). All the while, her mother dashed about the crowd, accepting compliments about her picture-perfect family with false grace as easily as she accepted the checks they inevitably accompanied. There had always been a shallowness to these parties that Laura had never liked, even at a young age, with the attendees always more concerned with paying lip-service to one another about their charitable exploits rather than the actual charity that they had supposedly attended to support.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Laura frowned at herself before breaking away from her spot and heading towards the bar. She was already less-than-cheerful as it was, and thinking about her mother would only further sour her mood, something that the brunette would prefer to avoid. A bit of alcohol might make the rest of the night bearable, as clearly the flute of champagne she'd downed earlier hadn't done anything for her. She just hoped Bruce Wayne had stocked his bar with something a little stronger.

Laura had just nearly made her way to the bar when she heard a loud laugh from her left, followed by a sharp pain in her side as someone's elbow collided with her ribs. The brunette yelped in surprise and stumbled forward, bumping into a woman whose martini sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the glass at the motion. The woman whirled around, allowing Laura a look at the person whose dress she'd nearly ruined.

Laura was not a small woman, standing at 5'9 in her own right, but even in heels, the woman before her had at least a two-inch advantage. Her golden blonde hair was cut into what the sergeant assumed was a fashionable bob, framing her pale face. She had high cheekbones, a delicate nose, and pale green eyes, and Laura had to admit she was quite beautiful, or at least she would have been if her face hadn't been screwed up into a snarl.

"I'm so sorry!" Laura apologized, scanning the white fabric of the woman's dress for any stains.

"You'd damn well better be," The blonde woman snapped, handing her martini off to the man beside her and searching the dress herself before fixing the sergeant with a glare. "This is an original Lana Lang, so unless you have an extra $20,000 to replace it, and judging by how _you're_ dressed I seriously doubt it, I'd watch where you're going."

Before Laura could even formulate a response, the woman snatched the martini from the man she'd passed it off to and stalked off to the other end of the room. The brunette ground her teeth, red-hot anger pooling in her gut as the small group of onlookers that had assembled during the exchange began to murmur amongst themselves, a few titters of laughter at her expense punctuating the chorus of whispers amongst the crowd. Before she could do something she'd later come to regret, Laura felt a small pair of hands grab her arm, giving a surprisingly strong yank and pulling her in the direction of the bar.

The hands on her arm tugged her through the throng of bluebloods, only releasing the brunette from their grasp when they'd reached the bar. Laura turned towards her guide, only now able to see them with the crowd of people no longer obscuring her view. The woman before her stood at least a head shorter than her, barely breaking 5'0. She had long, white-blonde hair twisted up in an elaborate bun and was decked out in a floor-length evening gown of shimmering silver, a color that made her bright blue eyes even more striking.

Laura frowned at the blonde and opened her mouth to speak, but the other woman beat her to it. "You looked like you were going to go after her," She said in way of an explanation, "And I thought it might be better to drag you off before someone ended up in an ambulance."

The sergeant felt her face go hot. "Oh. Uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it," The woman laughed, "Though I can't say I wouldn't have liked to see you try. Sam's always been a bitch."

"You know her?" Laura asked as the woman took a seat at the bar and motioned for her to do the same.

"Samantha Vanaver," The woman explained, waving over the bartender. "Executive chairman of Vanaver Industries, heiress to the Vanaver fortune, and just as nasty and pretentious as those titles would imply."

"What can I get for you ladies?" The bartender interjected.

"A Manhattan and…" The blonde trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

"White Russian," Laura answered.

The woman grinned at her as the bartender hurried off to make their drinks. "Good. A little vodka just might get you through the night." Then, almost as an afterthought, "I never introduced myself, did I? Silver St. Cloud."

"Laura Anderson." The brunette replied, shaking the blonde's outstretched hand.

"I've never seen you at one of these parties before," Silver observed, shooting the bartender a thankful smile as he returned with their drinks. "How do you know Bruce?"

 _Oh, we just met over Christmas. Some demented clown put a $50 million bounty out on his head because he dresses up like a bat at night and fights crime, and he ended up having to break into my work to hack our servers. I almost shot him in front of my boss' daughter and he got chased out of the building by SWAT, but made sure to give the acting police commissioner a minor concussion on the way out. I then spent the next few hours running around after him as eight of the world's best assassins tore the city apart trying to kill him, culminating in him criticizing how I do my job during an active prison riot. You?_

"I don't," Laura replied, ignoring the string of sarcastic commentary running through her head. "The Wayne Foundation send the GCPD an invitation, so I'm here as a representative."

"You're a cop?" Silver grinned. "Now you've _got_ to meet Bruce; you can finagle him into throwing a charity ball for the GCPD, get some new equipment out of it. The man's at his happiest when he's got a feel-good cause to throw money at."

"You don't like him?" Laura asked, redirecting the conversation as best she could. The last thing she needed was to get herself cornered by Bruce Wayne and give herself an even bigger opportunity to give away that she knew too much.

The blonde looked at her in surprise before letting out a small laugh. "Oh, it did sound that way, didn't it? No, I like Bruce. A lot, actually. He's a good man, a great friend, and my high school sweetheart to boot. I just mean that he never seems to be happy unless he's helping someone else."

The brunette tore her eyes away from the bar for a moment and scanned the crowd, not taking long to find the evening's host. Wayne was decked out in a tuxedo probably worth more than her car, maneuvering around the crowd, shaking hands and grinning ear to ear.

"He seems pretty happy now," Laura observed.

Silver let out a small chuckle and took another sip of her Manhattan. "Oh, Bruce is good at faking it. Always has been. He'll smile and laugh and joke when everyone's looking, acting like the carefree playboy everyone expects him to be, but none of it's real. The only time any of those smiles are genuine is when the world ends up a little brighter."

Silver's voice had taken on a wistful quality, and Laura looked over to see a flicker of what could only be described as pity cross the blonde's face. "That's why all these charities are so important to him. I think they remind him of his parents."

Silver froze, seemingly shocked by her own admission. "Jesus, how much have I had to drink?"

"One Manhattan too many, maybe? I wouldn't worry about it though," Laura told her, grinning as the blonde raised an eyebrow in her direction. "I didn't hear anything, and if I did, it wasn't from you. Samantha Van-something, I think her name was?"

Surprise flashed across the other woman's face before it was replaced by a mischievous grin. "Oh, I _like_ you."

Before Laura could reply, the attention of the room was commanded by the telltale screech of a microphone and all eyes turned to stare at Bruce Wayne, who had taken his place at the podium set up at the north end of the ballroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the Wayne Foundation, I would like to thank you all for your attendance tonight as we present this year's Wayne Foundation Humanitarian of the Year Award. My parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne, began presenting the Humanitarian of the Year Award almost thirty years ago, hoping to inspire others to give back to Gotham, the city that has given us so much, and to change the lives of millions of people. The tragic events that befell this city only one week ago are just proof that this city still needs our help, that our work is not yet done. We have lived through dark days, and no doubt there are more to come. But it is the good and great men who stand up for Gotham when others turn and run, and tonight I have the honor of introducing one of the greatest men this city has to offer. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in a round of applause for this year's Wayne Foundation Humanitarian of the Year Award recipient, Mr. Ferris Boyle!"

The room erupted into applause as a sharply dressed man with graying hair made his way through the crowd, grasping Wayne's hand in a firm handshake and laying a hand on his shoulder when he finally made his way onstage. He said something to Wayne, something Laura couldn't make out, but it only made the billionaire smile even wider, giving the older man a friendly slap on the back as a brunette woman in a black dress came up behind him, handing Boyle a small statuette cradling a crystal heart in its golden uplifted arms. Wayne evacuated the stage and allowed Boyle to take the podium, the businessman waving to the crowd to quiet them.

"Thank you Bruce, for that beautiful introduction. Truly, I don't deserve it." Boyle looked down at the statuette cradled in his palms, giving it a fond smile before once again looking up to address the crowd.

"People caring for people. Compassion. That's the foundation Gotham was built on, and I have proudly built GothCorp on that same foundation. That's why we're called 'The People Company'. Thank you so much."

Laura joined the crowd in applauding Boyle as he exited the stage, smiling at the gathered throngs of people that had ambushed him upon his descent. She saw him maneuver his way through the crowd towards where Wayne was standing, shaking the younger man's hand once again and exchanging words. The two were interrupted by the Englishman whom had searched Laura's purse, Boyle once again shaking Wayne's hand before being led off in the direction of the small room in which the sergeant had seen the press pool congregating.

"Well, I'd say the future is looking very, very bright for Gotham." The brunette woman whom had handed Boyle his award had stepped up to the podium, commanding the attention of the room. "Now, it's almost midnight, and you all know what that means. Now, let's get this New Year's Eve party going with a-"

The woman cut off suddenly, shivering and wrapping her arms around herself as a sudden chill flooded the room. While the burst of air was cold enough to stand the hair on Laura's arms on end, it seemed to be significantly worse on the other end of the room towards the stage; even from the bar, the sergeant could see the condensation of the speaker's breath when she exhaled.

"Forget to pay your heating bill, Bruce?" The woman joked through chattering teeth, eliciting a chorus of nervous laughter from the crowd.

Laura stood suddenly as she saw a thick sheet of ice forming on the wall behind the stage, and a sudden feeling of dread hit her like a truck.

"We need to get out of here," She told Silver, ripping open her purse and pulling out the handgun inside, pulling back the slide to make sure there was a round in the chamber.

"Wait, what?" The blonde said, eyes widening as she saw the gun. "Laura, what-"

She never got to finish her sentence, as the wall behind the stage exploded with a blast of ice, throwing everyone onstage out into the audience and coating the entire room in a layer of frost. Without even giving the partygoers a moment to recover, men began pouring out of the icy hold in the wall, a few shooting into the ceiling to command the attention of the room while their compatriots leaped into the audience to force the gathered socialites to their knees, opening fire on anyone who tried to fight back. Armed with submachine guns the sergeant knew only Oswald Cobblepot could get with Loeb out of the picture, there was no doubt in her mind that these men were working for the Penguin himself. Laura turned to see Silver standing frozen in shock, gripping the edge of the bar so hard her knuckles had turned white and an expression of horror written across her face. The brunette grabbed the other woman around the shoulders, dragging her away from the bar and into the manor's main foyer, shoving her in the direction of the front door.

"Silver, listen to me," The sergeant said in as steady a voice as she could manage, the woman before her still shaking in fear. "You need to get out of here. Get in your car, drive somewhere safe, and _stay there_. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yeah," The blonde stammered, beginning to fish through the small purse she carried with shaky hands for her car keys before realizing she'd handed them off to a valet hours before. "You're not staying here, are you?"

"Don't worry about me," The brunette told her, giving the other woman a firm push towards the door. "Just get yourself out of here."

Silver nodded, hurrying out the door and only hesitating for a moment on the threshold to look back before disappearing from sight. When Laura was sure the other woman had gone, she hurried back to the entrance to the ballroom, positioning herself in the cover of the doorway before craning her neck to look at the chaos inside.

As she did, a massive figure walked out of the gaping hole in the ballroom's north wall, his footsteps echoing throughout the room. The man wore a huge mechanical exo-suit with some sort of weapon mounted on the right arm, topped with a huge glass dome so the suit's occupant could see outside. Even from the foyer, Laura could see the man was deathly pale, his skin a sickly, hypothermic blue. He had no hair to be seen, not even eyebrows, and the bright red glow from the lenses of the strange goggles he wore could be seen even from across the room. The man barely took notice of the people strewn about the floor scrambling to get out of his way, only visibly acknowledging their presence when the band's pianist, whose leg had been frozen to the floor during the initial cold blast, couldn't move out of the way. The suited man barely even stopped, slamming the weapon mounted on his suit's arm into the musician, sending him flying across the room and towards one of the room's column supports. The air filled with the sound of a high-pitched mechanical whine as the suit's weapon fired, encasing the column, and to Laura's horror, the pianist, in solid ice.

"Bring me Ferris Boyle." The man demanded, his voice tinged with an electronic, flanging quality.

A sudden burst of movement in the otherwise still crowd caught Laura's eye, and she saw it was none other than Bruce Wayne himself, maneuvering through the gathered crowd as quickly as he could. The brunette saw the billionaire stop just short of a doorway, bringing his hand up to touch was she could only assume to be an earpiece before frowning to himself and heading through a door to the manor's east wing. As he disappeared further into the house, Laura allowed herself a small moment of relief; Batman would make an appearance soon enough, she was sure, and Penguin's men would learn soon enough what a mistake it was to break into the house of the Bat.

Moving away from the foyer and farther down the hall, Laura ducked into a small bathroom and shut the door behind her, laying her gun down on the counter to rifle through her purse. Once she finally found her phone, she quickly hit the first number on her speed dial, nervously drumming her fingers on the porcelain sink as it rang.

" _Anderson, I'm a little busy right now. Can I call you back?"_

"Jim, no!" Laura all but shouted into the phone, wincing at her own loudness and praying she hadn't just given herself away. "I need backup at Wayne Manor, now!"

" _Why?"_ The captain asked, confusion coloring his tone. _"What's going on?"_

"Penguin's men have stormed the place," The sergeant told him. "There's dozens of them, fully armed, and they're killing people and taking hostages. They're being led by some guy in a mechanical suit, and _he's_ got some sort of…ice ray."

" _An ice…Anderson, what the hell is an ice ray?"_

"It's a gun mounted to this asshole's super-suit that shoots ice, turns people into popsicles, and blew a big-ass hole in the side of the building." She snapped, the sound of screams from the ballroom reaching her even down the hall. "All I've got is a 9mm Jim, I can't handle this on my own. I need backup as soon as you can send it."

" _Jesus_ _Christ!"_ Gordon cursed. _"Laura, there've been riots across North Gotham all night. Anarky's followers flooded the streets after Nashton's information dump, and we're stretched thin as it is. We're at the point where Hill's calling the governor, trying to bring in the National Guard."_

Laura went quiet for a long moment. "So, what you're telling me is that you've got no one to send."

" _Laura, I'm sorry. I'll send as many men as I can as soon as I can, but it's…it's going to be a while."_

Before she could respond, the door swung open with a bang behind her, someone grabbing her hair in a fist before she could turn around, giving it a sharp yank. The brunette clawed at the man's hands trying to break free, barely noticing as her phone clattered to the floor, the impact ending the call and silencing Gordon's frantic voice through the microphone.

"Christ, you rich fucks scatter like roaches at the first sign a' trouble, don't ya?" The man grumbled, giving her hair another harsh tug as he tried to drag her out into the hall. "Let's go, you're comin' with me."

Laura ground her teeth, noticing her gun had slid off the bathroom counter and out of reach. With a growl of frustration, the sergeant reached behind her with both hands, grabbing the man by the temples and digging her thumbs into where she knew his eyes would be. Screaming in pain, the man quickly let go of her hair to cover his eyes and Laura whirled around to face him. Wasting no time, the sergeant grasped the man by the back of the head and slammed his head down onto the corner of the bathroom sink, putting as much force behind it as she could muster. Bone met porcelain with a sickening crunch, the man instantly going limp and collapsing to the floor, blood gushing out of the massive gash the sink's edge had made in his forehead. Grabbing her gun, phone, and purse, Laura quickly exited the bathroom, hurrying down the now-aflame hallway to follow the sound of yelling and gunfire.

She followed the noise a little further down the hall, rounding the corner only to be met with the sight of Batman fending off a handful of Penguin's men, Ferris Boyle cowering in a heap on the ground nearby. The vigilante finished off the last of the thugs with a punch to the man's temple, sending him crashing to the ground.

"We need to get you out of here," He said to the industrialist, offering the other man a hand to help him stand.

"I-I heard about you," Boyle stammered, reaching for the vigilante's outstretched hand. Before he could take it, the suited man Laura had seen in the ballroom appeared at the end of the hall, raising the ice ray mounted in his suit in their direction.

"Look out!" She yelled, diving for cover in an alcove in the wall.

Her warning had been too late, as the icy blast hit Batman full-force, freezing the vigilante in a massive block of ice.

"I have no quarrel with you." The man said, walking right past the vigilante towards Boyle.

"Then you crashed the wrong party," Batman retorted, the ice barely allowing him to crane his neck enough to face his adversary.

The suited man did not reply, reaching down and grabbing Boyle by the lapels of his suit, forcing him to stand and prodding the industrialist in the back with his wrist-mounted weapon until the graying man began to walk down the hall.

"Freeze?" Boyle gasped as he was forced down the hall. "What do you want with me?"

"I just require a moment of your time," Freeze snapped, giving the man another shove.

As Boyle was led away, screaming and pleading all the while, three of Penguin's men rounded the corner, eyes immediately settling on the incapacitated vigilante. Batman struggled in the ice, attempting to break free, but he was well and truly stuck, and one of the men, armed with a heavy metal pipe, prepared to take a swing at his uncovered head. Before the thug could deliver the hit that Laura was sure would have cracked Wayne's head open, she emerged from her cover, firing off a handful of shots and sending all three men crumpling to the ground. Hurrying over to the vigilante, the sergeant was, unsurprisingly, met with the billionaire's trademark scowl.

"You didn't have to shoot them," Batman snapped, mouth set into a hard line.

She raised an eyebrow at him before setting down her gun on a small table nearby, picking up the metal pipe one of the thugs had dropped. "You're right; next time, I'll just let them play tee-ball with your skull."

"My helmet would have absorbed most of the impact," He muttered, almost petulantly, before Laura brought down the butt of the pipe onto the ice.

" _Most_ being the operative word," She retorted, bringing the pipe down again, the impact cracking the vigilante's icy cage in two.

"What are you doing here?" Wayne asked her, stepping out of the remains of the ice.

"The Wayne Foundation issued the department an invitation," She explained, dropping the pipe and retrieving her sidearm from where she'd put it down. "Gordon's been up to his eyeballs in work since Christmas, so I volunteered to come in his place so he could get some of it done."

"Go to the study," Batman told her, gesturing in the opposite direction from which she'd come before turning his back and heading towards the ballroom. "Wait there with the rest of the guests until the police arrive."

"The police aren't coming," Laura told him, the caped man's long stride forcing her to jog to keep up. "I called Gordon; there've been Anarky riots all over Old Gotham all night, and it's going to be hours before anyone can get out here. We're on our own."

Batman looked over her shoulder and muttered a curse, and Laura turned around to see the door to ballroom had been frozen shut, blocked by a massive ice structure far too large to be broken with a measly metal pipe.

"So, what now?"

Wayne shot her a glare. " _You're_ heading to the study."

"Like hell I am," The sergeant snapped. "Listen, I get that you've got your whole 'I-Work-Alone' thing going for you, but that's not going to cut it tonight. You've got half a hundred armed thugs running around this place, a homicidal maniac with a fucking ice gun, and dozens of hostages on the other side of that door, not to mention that we still need to get Boyle back, and if this Freeze guy is half as smart as he'd need to be to orchestrate this kind of a clusterfuck, he's probably out of Bristol and halfway to Gotham by now. So, are you going to swallow your pride and let me help you, or are you going to let people get killed because you wanted to play Lone Ranger?"

Batman looked at her for a long moment before letting out a huff, motioning for her to stand next to him as he aimed his grappling gun at the balcony above. Laura moved to his side, and Wayne wrapped one arm around her waist in an iron grip before sending them shooting through the air and onto the manor's second story. The two followed a short hall to a heavy wooden door, pulling it open to reveal the ballroom's second story balcony. They crouched by the balcony's railing, able to do nothing but watch as a helicopter, no doubt containing both Freeze and Boyle, ascended out of a massive hole in the ballroom's glass ceiling and sped away towards Gotham.

"I'll take care of Penguin's men," Batman murmured to her before nodding towards the western side of the room where the brunette could see a few dozen partygoers being held at gunpoint. "While they're distracted, you free the hostages."

Before she could respond, Batman had thrown himself off the balcony, using his cape to glide to the center of the room and landing on the back of one of the thugs, sending the man slamming face-first into the marble floor. All hell broke loose, every one of Penguin's men dropping their previous occupation and running to where Wayne stood, eager to have their turn at bringing down the Bat. Laura hurried down a nearby flight of stairs, making her way over to the hostages and ushering them out of the room, giving the few who were too frozen in fear to move a firm push out the door to the west wing. By the time the last of the captive socialites had exited the ballroom, Batman had finished with the thugs, all but one lying on the ground either unconscious or too injured to fight.

 _And he thinks_ I'm _the brutal one,_ Laura thought to herself as she maneuvered around the broken bodies lying on the floor.

"Where is he taking Ferris?" Wayne snarled, wrapping one hand around the thug's throat and lifting him clean off the ground.

"I-I don't know, I promise!" The man pleaded, clawing at the hand that suspended him in the air.

"Do you have any idea how many of your friends I sent to the hospital on Christmas Eve?" Batman growled, giving the man's throat a squeeze.

"Look," The man chocked, "One of Penguin's dealers, he's doling out the weapons Freeze gave us. He must know! We were supposed to meet up in South Gotham."

"You can meet up in the emergency room instead." The vigilante snapped, delivering a harsh punch to the other man's temple and tossing him aside.

Batman walked past her, pressing a few buttons on his gauntlet before standing under the large hole in the ceiling. The roar of an engine filled the air, and the black jet she'd first seen from the roof of Blackgate appeared overhead, hovering over the gap in the glass.

"Stay here and wait for Gordon." Wayne shouted over the noise, shooting his grappling line into the air and disappearing, much like he'd done before outside the Park Row Sewage Plant on Christmas Eve.

Laura glared at the hole in the ceiling as the vigilante's jet disappeared from sight, rocketing off towards the city. These disappearing acts Wayne kept pulling were starting to annoy her, and if he insinuated one more time that he knew how to do her job better than she did and was better off on the sidelines, it wasn't Penguin and Freeze he'd have to worry about; she'd shoot the arrogant bastard herself.

With the door to the foyer frozen shut, Laura was forced to make her way out of the building through the hole Freeze had blown into the north wall of the ballroom. Exiting onto the lawn of Wayne Manor, she hurried around the building as fast as the heels she wore would allow, heading for the large stable-turned-garage she'd seen earlier. Stepping into the converted building, Laura headed towards the valet's makeshift desk, spotting the box of car keys.

"H-hey! You can't go through those!"

Laura turned to see the valet she'd given her keys to earlier, his head sticking out from his hiding place behind a shiny silver Mercedes. "Y-you need to sign off on the list."

She ignored him, continuing to rifle through the box until she found her keychain. "Relax, I'm just taking mine. It's the Chevy, if you really want to do the paperwork."

"It's, um, I mean it might not be the only-"

"Kid, really," She sighed, cutting the boy off and looking him straight in the eye. "Take a look at this crowd and tell me any of them drive a Chevy."

The valet muttered something intelligible to himself before slinking back behind the Mercedes and Laura hurried deeper in the garage, rapidly pressing the remote start button until she heard the purr of her Impala's engine. Throwing her things onto the passenger's seat, the brunette slid behind the wheel and peeled out of the building, rushing down the manor's gravel driveway and barely giving the wrought iron gates at its end ample time to open.

As she sped down the winding mountain roads of Bristol Township, it struck Laura that she was hurrying off without a destination in mind. She knew the helicopter holding Freeze and Boyle had headed off in the direction of Gotham, but with their head start, they could be anywhere in the city by now. And with Batman unwilling to clue her in on his own investigation, she had no idea where to start. Not unless…

Struck with an idea, Laura reached over with one hand to grab her phone, hitting her speed dial and putting the phone on speaker as she neared the Gotham City limits.

" _Hey Laura, what's up?"_

"Barbara, are you at the station right now?"

" _Yeah,"_ The teenager told her, _"Dad didn't want me home by myself with the riots going on. Why, what's wrong?"_

"I need you to look into something for me. Hack, cheat, whatever you have to do, I don't care, I just need information as fast as you can get it."

" _Wait, you actually WANT me to hack into the police servers? Wow, never thought I'd-"_

"Barbara," The sergeant growled, shooting into the oncoming lane to pass the driver ahead of her before jerking back to the correct lane. "Focus."

" _Um, yeah. No problem, what do you need?"_ The redhead said hurriedly, and Laura could faintly make out the sound of typing on a keyboard in the background.

"I need you to find me information about GothCorp and Ferris Boyle. Disgruntled employees, threats made against the company, personal grudges, anything that might have caused someone to want Boyle dead." She said hurriedly, making the turn onto the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge perhaps a bit sharper than necessary.

" _Yeah, okay."_ Barbara replied, and Laura could hear the pace of the teenager's typing increase. _"Uh, no threats made against the company or employees, no disgruntled workers to speak of, no police records of any sort of harassment or stalking charges, and I can't find anything about any scandals. Sorry Laura, everything looks clean."_

The sergeant cursed. "What about any workplace accidents? Anything fishy happening on GothCorp property? "

" _Hang on,"_ The teenager told her. _"Hey, actually there is something. A few weeks back, there was some sort of lab accident in one of GothCorp's research labs in their building on Miller Street. No real damage to the building itself and the report's pretty vague as to what actually happened, something about an equipment malfunction, but a scientist and a security guard got killed. Don't see why anyone would target Boyle for that, though. There's no indication that Boyle himself was even there, and neither of the victims had any listed next-of-kin."_

"Who was the scientist that got killed?" Laura asked, getting the gut feeling she usually did when a case started to come together.

" _Victor Fries. He was the head of GothCorp's cryogenics division."_

"Thanks, Barbara. I owe you one."

" _Wait, Laura! What-"_ The sergeant disconnected the line before the teenager could finish speaking and made a sharp turn onto Miller Street, the engine of her car roaring as she rushed in the direction in the Diamond District.

She was headed to GothCorp.


	9. A Dish Best Served Cold

**Hello! I know it's been ages since I last updated, but between all my end-of-semester work, finals, and transferring schools for the fall, I got a bit sidetracked. Thankfully, that's all out of the way, and I can focus more on my writing. As always, please review as I love hearing from you all, and I hope you enjoy chapter 9!**

* * *

Much to Laura's surprise, GothCorp was practically deserted.

When she pulled into the building's large parking garage, her little black Impala had been the sole vehicle in the concrete structure, save for a lone delivery van parked opposite the entrance, its driver nowhere to be seen. Grateful for the lack of an audience, the sergeant quickly parked the vehicle and opened the trunk, fishing around for the duffel bag she always kept inside. Running around during an investigation in a dress and heels was hardly practical, and the brunette was never more grateful for her habit of keeping a change of clothes in her car. Stripping out of her formal attire, Laura quickly redressed into the jeans, hoodie, leather jacket, and hiking boots kept in the bag, grabbing her spare holster and a few extra clips for good measure. She had a feeling she'd need them before the night was through.

Hurrying over to the main building, Laura pushed open the unlocked front door, entering the lobby and startling the guard leaning back in his chair at the security desk by the far wall, the man nearly falling out of his seat in surprise. Once he'd recovered, the guard quickly stood and moved to block her path, preventing her from coming further into the building.

"Miss, you can't be in here. You need to leave, or else I'm going to have to call the police."

"I _am_ the police," She told him, fishing her badge off her belt and handing it to the security guard who examined it carefully. "Sergeant Anderson, GCPD Homicide Division. I need to get into the cryogenics lab."

The guard looked at her in confusion, handing her back her badge. "Wait, homicide? Ma'am, nobody's been murdered here. I think you've got the wrong place."

"Believe me, I'm in the right place." She told the guard, fixing him with the harsh look she usually saved for interrogations. "One of your former employees killed about a dozen people tonight and took Ferris Boyle hostage. We have no idea where they are or where they're going, but that employee used to work in the cryogenics lab. If there is any evidence up there giving any indication as to where they're going or what he's going to do, I need to see it. Do you understand?"

"Ma'am," The man said hesitantly, gaze flicking between her and the security desk. "That floor has been quarantined, I really can't let you up there. And if you don't have a warrant…"

"I'll come back with a warrant if need be," Laura told him, carefully arranging her face into a slightly softer look. "But that's going to take time. And by the time a judge signs off on that warrant and I can make my way back here, Ferris Boyle will probably be dead."

"I-" The man hesitated.

"Listen," She cut him off, "You seem like a nice guy, and I understand you're just trying to do your job, but so am I. A man's life is in danger, and if there is going to be any chance we can save him, I need to get ahead of the psychopath that took him, and that means seeing what's in that lab."

The guard looked at her for a long moment before nodding, making his way back towards the desk and typing something into the security station's computer. A small machine whirred to life, spitting out a small white keycard emblazoned with GothCorp's logo, which the man then grabbed and handed to her.

"This will give you the security clearance you need to get around. The lab's on level six, east side of the building. Just…just make sure Mr. Boyle's alright, will you?"

Laura shot the man a small smile before heading off towards the elevator. "I'll do everything I can."

Swiping the keycard and slipping inside the elevator as soon as the doors slid open, the brunette quickly hit the button for the sixth floor. As the doors slid shut once more and the elevator began to ascend, Laura felt her heart rate pick up. Something sinister was going on at GothCorp, something Ferris Boyle had gone to great lengths to cover up, and Laura was determined to get to the bottom of it, once and for all.

-IX-

"Those men were armed. How'd you do that?"

Bruce glanced at the stunned face of the security guard standing beside him, whom was gaping at his handiwork. When the vigilante had entered the lobby of GothCorp, he'd found not a soul in sight and initially had thought it empty. He would have continued on towards the elevators to follow Freeze and Penguin's trail if he hadn't heard the guard's yelp of pain from the balcony above, accompanied by threats of 'drastic measures' from one of Penguin's men should the guard not comply. Bruce had then grappled up, knocking two of the men's heads together and rendering them unconscious, tossing the third headfirst through the plaster of the wall when he charged.

"Where are they taking Ferris?" He asked, ignoring the guard's question.

"Mr. Boyle? They uh – they're heading to the Propellant Research Wing. These guys have been raiding the whole facility."

"Do you have the codes to the security door?"

"No, I don't have clearance." The guard told him, shaking his head. "But my boss does. A bunch of them took him to the Organics Lab, through the lobby."

Bruce turned away from the guard to leap off the balcony and onto the floor below. "I'll make sure they don't hurt your boss. Get yourself to safety."

"I will," The guard assured him. "Oh! But you might want to keep an eye out. One of your cop buddies headed through here a while ago."

The vigilante froze, one hand still on the balcony railing in preparation to vault himself over. "Which cop?" He asked tersely, more for confirmation of his own suspicions than need for information. He already had an idea of _exactly_ which cop was running around the building.

"Don't know for sure," He heard the guard say from behind him. "I only saw her through one of the security cameras, and they don't have audio. Pretty, brunette, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. She guilted my boss into giving her a security card for the experimental research labs, and he's not the type to roll over easy. Sound familiar?"

Bruce ground his teeth together as his suspicions were confirmed. He'd _told_ her to stay in the manor and wait for Gordon. "Yes."

Without another word, the vigilante vaulted over the balcony railing and onto the main floor of the lobby below, hurrying in the direction the guard had indicated. He _had_ to get those security codes if he was going to get Ferris out of this alive.

 _And more likely than not,_ he thought to himself with no small amount of irritation, _Laura Anderson as well._

-IX-

GothCorp was absolutely freezing.

It hadn't been in the beginning, of course. The research labs she'd had to weave her way through had well-contained the cryogenic chemicals being manufactured within, but when Freeze and Penguin had showed up and began dousing the place in ice, the temperature within the building had dropped like a rock. Truthfully, their entrance had been somewhat unexpected; Laura had half-expected the criminal duo to whisk Boyle away to some ice-themed villainous lair halfway across the city like in a Saturday morning cartoon. That had been far too much to ask for, however, as GothCorp's halls were now crawling with dozens of Penguin's men, and it was all the sergeant could do to continue towards the cryogenics lab while still remaining out of sight.

 _I should have brought more bullets._

Laura made her way down the hall, following the signs posted on the walls pointing in the direction of the cryogenics lab. After what seemed like ages of dashing down hallways and hiding herself in alcoves in an attempt to remain unseen, she rounded one last corner and finally came face-to-face with the cryogenics lab. Letting out a sigh of relief that she'd finally reached her destination, the brunette hurried towards the large double doors at the end of the hall before freezing in place as the sound of gunfire erupted from a doorway to her left. Peeking through the thick glass window adjacent the doorway, Laura could see the door she was nearest led out onto a metal catwalk above a large open room. Peering down, she nearly groaned in frustration at the scene below her, knowing the situation at hand had just become a lot more complicated.

On the far side of the room, two of Penguin's men armed with sniper rifles were firing at Fries, who himself was hiding behind some heavy lab equipment on a raised platform not far below where she was looking out into the room. Cobblepot stood behind a handful more of his men on the ground below, holding Ferris Boyle in front of him like a human shield, a gun pressed threateningly into the industrialist's back. Even across the large distance of the lab, she could make out the terrified look on Boyle's face, his arms raised above his head, almost as if in surrender.

"Give me Boyle, or I'll freeze this entire room." Fries threatened, peeking out slightly from behind the lab equipment.

"I know you won't!" Penguin mocked, harshly jabbing the gun into the small of Boyle's back. "Boyle's got the codes you need, an' I ain't givin' 'im up 'less I get what he's givin' ya."

"What's behind this door is of no interest to you!" Freeze snapped.

Laura looked to the left, spotting yet another set of heavy metal doors leading out of the propellant lab.

"What I'm interested in is the weapons I was promised." Penguin shouted, his men letting loose another handful of shots when Fries stepped too far out from behind his cover. "I know you're holdin' out on me."

"This will not end well for you, Cobblepot."

"Oh-ho! I think you're confused 'bout what exactly is about to 'appen 'ere," The Englishman growled, yanking Boyle down onto his knees and pressing the gun against the back of the man's head. "As soon as you show us that big fishbowl, my boys'll blow it open. And if that doesn't work, I'll be sure to blow your precious codes right out of Mr. Boyle 'ere's brains!"

Almost as if he had been waiting for a cue, Batman suddenly descended from the ceiling, landing down between two of Penguin's men with a hard thud, throwing both of the men off-balance. Not wasting a second, the vigilante quickly dispatched both of the men before turning his attention to their employer. Yanking Boyle back onto his feet with a snarled curse, Cobblepot and the handful of his thugs who still remained conscious opened fire on the caped man, forcing him to take cover. Laura saw a flurry of movement from below her as Freeze took the opportunity granted to him and opened fire with his own gun, the high-pitched whine filling the air as the weapon's bright blue beam encased the gangster and his minions in ice. Hanging over the catwalk, a massive container of chemicals swung loose, its supports too damaged by the gunfire to continue keeping it aloft, slamming into the metal walkway and sending Batman crashing to the ground. With the coast clear, Freeze strode across the room to a terrified Ferris Boyle, whom had been encased in ice by Freeze's blast, and seized the industrialist by the throat, yanking him out of the ice.

"Now you belong to me," Fries snarled, leaning down and pressing his face so close to Boyle, the mist from the man's breath created condensation on the glass dome of the blue man's suit.

"I'll give you one chance to let him go," Laura heard Batman snarl, the vigilante having recovered from his unceremonious landing and now stalked across the room towards the pair.

"Threats are meaningless to a man who has lost everything." Freeze said condescendingly, pressing the ice ray mounted on his suit against Boyle's side, and the industrialist let out a yelp of pain.

Wayne hesitated for a moment and that was all the opportunity the former GothCorp employee required, pulling Boyle to the side and shooting a large tank nearby, rupturing the container and creating a massive explosion of chemicals. The blast sent Batman flying backwards and created a massive sheet of ice that divided the room in two, completely blocking Wayne from following Freeze as the scientist dragged Boyle out of the room.

As Freeze led Boyle further into the building, Laura felt the already-frigid temperature drop dangerously. If it'd been cold in the labs before, whatever chemicals Freeze had released only made it even more so, a coating of frost rapidly creeping across the window and seeping across whatever insulation separated the hallway from the lab. To her horror, the brunette noticed as her own breath began to condensate before her eyes and a layer of frost started to coat the leather of her jacket.

" _Emergency. Propellant Research Wing compromised. Initiate evacuation procedures immediately."_

"Yeah, no shit." Laura muttered at the loudspeaker's warning as the hurried to the end of the hall, swiping her keycard at the door to the cryogenics lab and hurrying inside as the magnetic locks deactivated to let her through. As the doors slammed shut and locked once again behind her, the brunette let out a sigh of relief as the creeping frost coated the outside of the door but followed no further, whatever insulation GothCorp had installed keeping the cold of the hall out just as well as its intended purpose of keeping the lab's in.

Her moment of relief didn't last long, as a horrible realization came to her as she watched the small window built into the door cover in frost as chemical vapors flooded the hall, blocking her view into the outside world.

 _I'm trapped in here. I'd freeze to death before I could make the front door, and even that's only if the way to the lobby isn't blocked off by ice or Penguin's men. I've got nowhere to go, and no one even knows I'm here._

As she took a deep breath to steady herself and slow down her now-racing heart, Laura made her way further into the antechamber outside the laboratory proper, attempting to formulate a plan. She was safe from Penguin's men, at least; it'd take a tank to knock down the lab's doors, and that's only if they hadn't frozen to death in the attempt. Wayne was skulking around the building as well, so at the very least she knew someone would be going after Boyle while she was holed up. It was only a matter of time before Gordon finished will Anarky's goons, if he hadn't already, and she was sure he would be able to gleam where she'd gone from whatever information Barbara passed along. It would take a while, but she'd be out eventually.

With that thought in mind, Laura peered into the large glass window separating her from the main room of the laboratory, determined to make the most of her time stuck in the room. She turned to head through the doorway separating the small observation center from the lab itself, only to be met with a large wall of ice sealing the doorway to the lab and blocking her path. The brunette let out an angry huff, irritated that yet another obstacle had been thrown in her way and her efforts to get to the lab had been in vain. Grinding her teeth in frustration, Laura made to sit herself down in the office chair in front of the small security console, prepared to spend the next few hours sitting alone in boredom.

At least she would have, if she hadn't looked down and noticed the body lying on the floor.

-IX-

Unfreezing the last of Fries' victims, Bruce didn't even stop to wait for the man's stuttered thanks before hurrying down the hall towards the cryogenics lab. Every minute he didn't have the components for the cryo-drill was another moment Ferris was at Freeze's mercy, the industrialist being put through God-knows what at the hands of that madman, if he was even still alive. Shaking off that train of thought, the vigilante rounded one final corner, dashing to the end of the hall and entering the access codes that would allow him entrance into Freeze's old lab.

Entering the antechamber of the laboratory, Bruce quickly scanned the room, spotting the doorway to the main lab off to the side of a small security console, the entrance blocked by a massive sheet of ice. Drawing his gaze downward, the billionaire spotted a body lying on the floor just in front of the ice sheet; male, dressed in a security uniform, his skin the same sickly shade of blue as Fries'. As he kneeled down to examine the body further, he froze as the telltale click of a gun's safety being flicked off sounded from behind him. His mind raced, trying to determine the best possible way to disarm his unseen opponent without disrupting the crime scene.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

Bruce turned his head to see the source of the feminine voice behind him, only to be met with the sight of Laura Anderson lowering a small handgun she'd had pointed at his back. She'd had a change of attire since he'd last seen her at the manor, he noticed, the green (And slightly bloodstained) dress she'd sported long gone in favor of the leather jacket and jeans the lobby security guard had described. Her hair was slightly damp as well, likely from the melting of ice that had no doubt formed in the espresso-brown strands.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, the intimidating tone he'd attempted to convey somewhat lost by the XE suit's voice filter.

"Same as you, I'd guess," She raised an eyebrow at his tone, clearly unimpressed. "Looking for clues about Freeze, and why he'd go after Boyle."

"How did you even know to come here?"

"I do this for a living, remember?" Anderson snorted, flicking on the safety of her gun and replacing it in the holster on her hip. "Believe it or not, I'm actually pretty good at my job."

Bruce ignored the comment, instead kneeling back down beside the body and pressing a small button on the side of his cowl near his temple, watching as the electronic display built into his suit's visors flash to life, streams of data filtering across his field of view.

"What are you doing?" Anderson asked from behind him, facial features twisted into a frown at him seemingly staring at a corpse.

"Determining the cause of death." He answered shortly as the biometric scanner processed the information it had gleamed from its scan of the security guard's remains.

"What, you've got a tricorder built into that helmet?" The brunette laughed, her humor fading when he neglected to answer. "Wait, you've _actually_ got a tricorder built into that thing?"

"It's a biometric scanner."

"It's a tricorder," Anderson retorted, moving to stand next to him and peering down at the security guard's body. "So, how _did_ he die? I didn't notice any wound patterns."

"Heat stroke," He answered, pushing away from the body and standing to his full height. "But the control room doesn't show signs of overheating."

"And that stuff?" The sergeant asked, nodding towards patches of an off-white substance that dotted the deceased guard's uniform.

"Some kind of crystallized chemical residue. Traces of it lead back into the lab."

Not waiting for Anderson to comment further, Bruce stepped over the guard's remains, pressing one gloved hand to the massive sheet of ice blocking his path and activating the XE suit's thermal gloves. In a moment, the heat from the gauntlets caused the ice to make a loud crack, and Bruce brought one arm back before bringing it sharply forward, his fist crashing through the wall of ice and shattering it to pieces. He strode through the wall's remains, Anderson on his heels, and stepped forward into the laboratory.

"Signs of a struggle," The sergeant pointed out, gesturing towards various pieces of scientific equipment that had been rather violently knocked over.

Bruce simply nodded, activating his scanner once more and making a sweep of the room as Anderson headed over to a small terminal in the corner of the lab.

As the scanner on his suit ran a set of palm prints he'd found on the laboratory's observation window through his recognition software, Anderson called out from behind him.

"Hey, Bats! You're going to want to see this."

Grinding his teeth at the irritating nickname, the vigilante nonetheless turned and made his way over to where the sergeant was standing, the screen on terminal she'd occupied herself with lit up with the paused frame of a video. Once he stood at her side, Anderson pressed a button on the terminal's keyboard and the video began to play.

" _My name is Doctor Victor Fries,"_ the video began, and Bruce barely recognized the man standing in front of the camera. While the face this man wore was identical to that of the man wreaking havoc inside the GothCorp facility, that was where the similarities ended. The man on the screen favored an ill-fitting suit and lab coat rather than the massive exo-suit he now sported, and though this version of Fries was certainly pale, it was nothing in comparison to the sickly, hypothermic blue hue his skin now took on. This recorded Fries' demeanor was hesitant, almost skittish, a radical change from the apathetic and arrogant man he had become.

" _I am recording what I pray to be humanity's first step towards immortality."_ The video continued, breaking Bruce out of his train of thought. _"Behind me you see the CC-100,"_ the recorded Fries explained, gesturing towards a large cylindrical pod contained within the now-empty machine resting in the laboratory. _"A cryogenic freezing chamber of my own design."_

" _I created it for the express purpose of freezing subjects stricken with inoperable ailments, subjects like my own beloved wife, Nora."_ The recording continued, a grimace momentarily flashing across Fries' face when he spoke of his wife, as if it physically pained him to think of her illness. _"Once a remedy has been found-"_

Fries' monologue was interrupted by the door to the laboratory being forced open, four men pushing through the doorframe once the locks had been disengaged. Three of the men were unfamiliar, dressed in security uniforms and flanking the fourth figure, whom Bruce recognized immediately.

"Ferris Boyle?"

" _Get away from that equipment!"_ The recorded Ferris snarled, giving Fries a hard shove. As the scientist hit the ground and let out a yelp of pain, the billionaire turned to the guards still hovering in the doorway. _"Shut this stuff down."_

" _Stop!"_ Fries yelled, picking himself up off the floor and lunging at his former employer, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit. _"This is MY experiment!"_

" _Your unauthorized experiment,"_ Boyle sneered, shoving the scientist once more as two security guards grabbed Fries by the arms to keep him from going at the industrialist again. _"I hired you to make weapons, and a year later I've got almost nothing to show for it. I'm already 12 million in debt thanks to you, and I'm done wasting my time and money on your little pet project."_

" _You can't do this! That's my WIFE in there! You can't-"_

" _This is MY equipment! Mine!"_ Boyle snarled, getting in Fries' face even as the scientist struggled in the iron grip of the GothCorp security guards. _"I have every legal right to use it or not use it as I see fit, and I say this project ends NOW! We had a deal Victor, a deal you went back on. You want to save your precious wife? Maybe you should have thought of that before not meeting your end of the bargain."_

Boyle nodding his head towards the remaining security guard, and said guard quickly made his way over to the large machine in the center of the room, disengaging the cylindrical pod from its housing and wheeling it through the lab and out the door, ignoring all else as Fries' pleading and struggling became even more frantic.

" _Oh, would you shut up already?!"_ Boyle snapped, grabbing a pistol out of the holster hanging on one of the security guards' belt and smashing the butt of the gun into the scientist's forehead with an audible crack. The blow knocked Fries back, sending him careening out of the arms of the security guards and into a small table near the observation window to the lab. Fries reached out to try and catch himself, managing to grab onto a piece of lab equipment Bruce recognized as the cryogenic cannon that was currently mounted on Freeze's exo-suit. The cannon fired, its bright blue beam freezing one of the security guards in a block of ice and hitting a massive container of unknown chemicals resting against the wall. The container gave a long, strained groan before its metallic walls burst, its contents exploding outwards and the shockwave destroying the camera, ending the recording in a feed of static.

"Jesus Christ…" Anderson murmured beside him, eyes wide in shock.

Bruce leaned over the terminal and commandeered the keyboard from the sergeant, sifting through the files within and attempting to work through his anger before he put his fist through a wall; up until tonight, he'd considered Ferris not only a colleague, but a friend. But after _this_?

 _After this, he should consider himself lucky if he isn't celebrating the New Year in traction._

"Fries was researching Huntington's Chorea," He explained as Anderson leaned over his shoulder to read the display on the screen. "He and Boyle seem to have gotten into a disagreement as to how he should have been spending his time."

"So Nora Fries becomes terminally ill, Victor strikes a deal with Boyle to provide him weapons in exchange for a cure, Boyle doesn't deliver, Fries decides to put his wife into stasis and do the research himself, and when Boyle finds out, he kidnaps Mrs. Fries and leaves Victor for dead when things go wrong?" The brunette surmised.

"And Boyle had the lab locked down and quarantined so no one could find out what happened." Bruce finished.

Anderson made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "And that _stronzo_ has the balls to waltz around telling people what a _humanitarian_ he is. Wayne ought to beat him over the head with that goddamn trophy."

 _I just might,_ he thought to himself darkly, downloading the files from Fries' terminal onto the onboard computer in his suit and uploading them into the Batcave's memory banks; there was no way in hell Boyle was getting away with this, and he was going to take the man down _hard._

"And Fries? Whatever that explosion was, it what, mutated him?"

"It altered his metabolism, making survival outside of a sub-zero environment impossible."

"Which is why that guard died of heatstroke in a 70º room, and why Fries is running around in that suit. He must have seen the guard die when he left the lab, and built himself that super-suit so he could get out of here, rescue his wife, and get his revenge on Boyle."

"Exactly."

Anderson looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. "Don't sound so surprised. Like I said, I do this for a living."

Bruce didn't respond, turning from the terminal and heading towards the lab's observation chamber and out the door into the hall. Anderson followed a step behind, unholstering her sidearm once more as they made their way further into the facility.

"I'm going to have to leave the room to have plausible deniability for whatever you do to Boyle, aren't I?"

In that moment, Bruce was grateful for the XE suit's full face mask, as it hid the small twitch in the corner of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

"Maybe."


	10. Heart of Ice

**Hello! Damn, this one was a pain to finish, partly because I somehow had to stretch the remaining ten minutes of Cold, Cold Heart gameplay into a whole chapter, and partly because I got sucked into _Boardwalk Empire_ and now have a ton of ideas running around for a fic for that. But, it's done! As always, please leave reviews, as nothing makes me happier than reading what you guys have to say.**

 **P.S. To Leah Tatyana Nicole, who asked if this story was going to have a Laura/Batman/Catwoman love triangle; I can say with absolute confidence that it will not. The one trope I really never liked was love triangles, and while I do intend for Catwoman to play a role in this story and other stories if I actually get as far as _Arkham City_ , and while she and Laura _will_ interact in this story and others, they won't be fighting over Bruce.**

* * *

"So what's the plan?"

Laura looked over to the caped vigilante beside her, the two of them currently crouched behind a collection of crates haphazardly stacked near the entrance to GothCorp's Propellant Lab. About fifty feet beyond their hiding place stood nearly a dozen of Penguin's men gathered around the massive block of ice in which their employer was frozen, frantically attempting to free the man while said employer spat and cursed at them from his icy prison. Though the thugs were armed with little more than broken pipes and she knew the man beside her was more than capable of handling such odds, Laura was still uneasy about jumping into a fight in which the two were so vastly outnumbered.

"I'll handle Penguin's men," Wayne told her, reaching underneath his cape to fish a small piece of machinery from off of his utility belt and offering it to her. "Use this to cut a hole in the ice. Just hold it in place and turn the handle. It'll do the rest."

Laura nodded and took the offered device, having to use two hands to grasp it due to its weight. As soon as he was sure she could manage the small machine, her companion vaulted himself over the crates, catching the attention of the gathered thugs who rushed towards him, no doubt eager for payback for the Bat's actions on Christmas Eve. Her path to the ice wall now clear, the brunette hurried over to a patch of the wall that was relatively flat and pressed the device against the ice.

"Y-You gonna get me outta this damn iceberg?" Penguin sputtered a few feet to her left, attempting to crane his neck to face her.

She choked back a bark of laughter. "Don't count on it."

"What are they payin' ya? Forty, fifty thousand a year?" He asked, spotting the silver shield hanging from her belt. "Get me outta here and I'll triple it."

"A tempting offer," She drawled as a long arm descended from the device, the laser on the end cutting a perfect circle out of the wall of ice as the arm arced around its focal point. "But I'm going to have to decline."

"Don't give me that shit," Penguin snarled, his expression twisting into as much of a scowl as the ice would allow, as half of his face was encased in the wall. "All you cozzers got a price."

"Not all of us."

Laura turned to see Batman making his way towards her, having dispatched the last of Penguin's men. Ignoring the curses and threats spewing from the frozen gangster, Wayne moved around her to stand in front of where the drill was mounted in the ice, appraising the circular cut the machine had made in the frozen wall.

"Get behind me." He told her, moving in front of the device and hovering a hand over a button on the center of the drill. Laura moved behind the vigilante's large frame, made even larger by the strange suit he now wore. A low whir sounded and the chunk of ice the drill had carved from the wall shattered into a thousand pieces, frozen fragments shooting past her and smashed onto the ground like shards of glass. Peeking out from her spot behind Wayne's suit, Laura peered at the drill's handiwork, the small machine having carved a long cylindrical tunnel out of the ice wall, which the sergeant could now see was just over five feet thick.

She gave a low whistle. "Damn."

Wayne didn't respond, instead strolling through the hole in the ice, having to duck his head slightly to keep the two small bat ears on his cowl from scraping the tunnel's roof. Laura followed closely behind, carefully maneuvering around the patches of ice still stubbornly clinging to the Propellant Lab's metal floor. The path forward lead through the remainder of the devastated laboratory and through a pair of large double doors, opening up into a cavernous room that could only be crossed by a narrow metal catwalk. As the two made their way across the metallic structure, a massive tremor shook the building to its foundations, forcing the sergeant to cling to the catwalk's handrails in order to keep her footing.

"Do you have a plan for when we actually find Freeze?" Laura asked her companion, desperately trying to remain upright.

"I'm going to try and convince him to let Boyle go and turn himself in."

The brunette's eyes narrowed in disbelief, half wondering if he was joking. "And when that inevitably doesn't work?"

Though the large frame of Wayne's new suit disguised it well, the sergeant could still see the line of the vigilante's shoulder stiffen slightly at her commentary. "Then I'm going to have to take them both in."

The two finally crossed the narrow catwalk, entering into a small room with a security console on one end and a ladder leading to the floor above on the other. Wayne hurriedly climber the ladder, pausing once he'd reached the top.

"It's through the vents from here," He called down to her, pressing a button on his gauntlet and causing a holographic display appear above it, of what Laura couldn't see. "It's a thirty foot drop on the other end. You'll have to find another way around."

Laura scanned the room, spying a small metal staircase leading down near the security console she hadn't noticed before. "I'll figure something out. Just try and leave enough of Boyle to arrest, will you?"

Though he stalked off towards the vents and out of her sight too quickly for Laura to be sure, the brunette could swear she heard the vigilante mutter to himself, "No promises."

-X-

As Bruce made his way through the ventilation system of the GothCorp building, he could hear Freeze's flanging voice ringing out from somewhere below.

"Your body core temperature is dangerously low, Ferris. All I want is to get Nora and leave."

"I'm not giving you the code!" He heard Boyle snarl as he neared the vent grate closest to the mismatched pair of enemies. "I'll see you both dead before I give you a damn thing!"

"Then join me in my fate and freeze." Freeze retorted, not a note of sympathy in his voice.

"You're a peon, Victor. A pleb!" The industrialist spat as Bruce finally reached the grate, the man ranting in his desperation. "What are you without me, huh? You've got nothing. No money, no resources. Everything around you, I built. Without me, you'd still be turning animals into ice cubes! You stole from me Victor! You thought I'd just let that go? Do you know who I am?"

Bracing his shoulder on the opposite wall, the vigilante planted his foot against the grate, shoving with all his strength. The metal buckled beneath his boot, the screws holding it in place coming loose and causing the warped metal to clatter to the floor of the lab below with a loud crash. Bruce vaulted out of his spot in the mouth of the vent as soon as grate came loose, launching himself to the floor of the lab and rolling behind a stack of scientific equipment before either of the laboratory's occupants could take notice of his presence. It was a lucky thing that he did, for as soon as the crash of the grate hitting the metallic floor rang out across the room, Freeze spun around, the beam from his gun tracing an icy trail from the metal fixture's resting place on the ground to the mouth of the now-empty vent, a blast that would have hit him full-force if he had hesitated even a moment longer.

"Victor, you have to let him go." Bruce stepped out from behind the equipment, his tone pleading but preparing to leap out of the way should Freeze take another shot at him.

"I'm taking my wife!" Freeze snarled, raising his weapon and taking aim, its high-pitched whine filling the air. "You can't stop me."

"I know the truth, and so will the police. Boyle will face judgement for his crimes."

"It-it was an accident!" Boyle sputtered, struggling against the ice that kept him immobile from the shoulders down. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

That seemed to be Freeze's breaking point, as the suited man reached over and yanked the billionaire out of the ice by the throat, hurling him into a containment pod which sealed shut, locking the industrialist inside. The suited man whirled around, taking aim at Bruce and blasting him with his gun, the vigilante only just able to dodge the beam and diving behind cover. Freeze made his way over to the edge of the platform, pulling a lever mounted on the railing and causing the structure to rise.

"Nothing matters. Do you understand? Nothing matters but my Nora!"

"You've endangered lives all over this city." Bruce shouted up to him, peeking out from behind his cover. "Nora would never have wanted this!"

"No," Freeze agreed, looking up at his wife's containment pod and pensively staring at her frozen figure, laying a hand on the glass. "What she wants is to live a long life in the warmth of the sun, her hand in mine. But because of _him_ , she'll only feel the icy touch of a man whose emotions run as cold as the blood in his veins!"

Almost as if they were waiting for a cue, Penguin's men poured in from the adjacent room, armed to the teeth. Grappling up to an outcropping on one of the room's steel supports, Bruce's mind raced to formulate a plan. As his eyes flickered from figure to figure, attempting to map out the men's patrol patterns, he couldn't help but hope that Sergeant Anderson would stay safe and out of trouble.

-X-

Laura was in so much trouble.

She had made her way down from the small security station without difficulty, even managing to find her way to the main entrance to the Propellant Lab without encountering any of Penguin's men, but before she could enter the room to help apprehend Fries and Boyle, the platform on which the two men had been standing began to elevate and half a dozen armed men poured in from the next room. As such, Laura was stuck standing out in the hallway, unable to do anything but stand and watch Wayne swing around from the rafters like a trapeze artist, periodically causing small explosions across the room and further antagonizing Fries and his men.

Before she could come up with some sort of strategy, her cell phone began to ring, the unexpected sound nearly causing her to drop her gun. Fumbling to fish it out of her jacket pocket, Laura hastily pressed the button and lifted the device to her ear, wedging it between her ear and her shoulder.

"Hello?"

" _Laura, where the hell are you?"_ Gordon's voice sounded from the speaker, and Laura nearly sighed in relief. _"I got a call from Barbara that you were asking all sorts of questions about Ferris Boyle and hung up on her, and the men I sent over to Wayne Manor said you weren't there."_

"I'm at GothCorp, in one of the research labs," She explained. "The guy who kidnapped Ferris Boyle, Victor Fries, is here."

" _Wait, Ferris Boyle got kidnapped? Laura, what the hell is going on?"_

"Jim, I don't really have time to explain right now," The brunette said hurriedly as a massive explosion sounded from the laboratory, a blast of cryo-chemicals slamming into the door and coating the small observation window in a thick sheet of ice. "The Bat's in trouble, and Freeze is getting trigger-happy with his ice ray. I'm in the Propellant Research Lab on the sixth floor. Send as many guys as you can; we're going to need them."

" _Wait, Laura-!"_

Laura hung up and stuffed the phone into her pocket, silencing the frantic voice of her superior for the second time that night. Knowing Jim, after a call like that, he'd have half the force swarming the building within the hour.

Which was exactly what she was counting on, because she was about to do something exceptionally stupid.

With a muttered prayer and a tug at the St. Michael medal hanging around her neck, Laura yanked open the door to the Propellant Lab. The blast of freezing air, putting even the icy climate near the cryogenics lab to shame, hit her like a brick wall, momentarily freezing her in place. With a violent shudder, Laura forced herself through the doorway, attempting to peer through the chemical mist hovering around the room to find the Bat. She caught a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned, just in time to see Wayne swinging from rafter to rafter with some sort of grappling line, hurling what looked to be small projectiles at the massive icicles hanging from the ceiling, sending them crashing down onto the floor below, and from what she could make out of the flanging threats being hurled in the vigilante's direction, directly on top of Freeze.

Momentarily putting the fight aside, Laura quickly scanned the room, spotting a raised platform high above her head. Though most of the structure was obscured by the thick metal floors, through a small section of floor that was metal mesh the sergeant could see a tall cylindrical container with a small viewport attached, inside of which Laura could ever so faintly see movement.

 _Ferris Boyle._

Glancing around, she could see there was no ladder or set of stairs to the top, and unless she somehow acquired a grappling line like Wayne, there was likely no way to the platform. Laura circled the structure from below, desperately trying to find a way up, when she finally came across the two massive supports for the ascending platform, thin metal beams crisscrossing along the pillars' sides in the form of an 'X', forming a somewhat treacherous pathway to the top. Left with no other option, Laura reluctantly grasped the metal beams and began climbing towards the top.

Despite the freezing metal burning her palms, the sergeant was able to scale the structure, albeit slowly due to the icy patches that dotted the surface of the beams. She'd made it nearly to the top before things started to go wrong, beginning with an alarm sounding across the lab.

" _Containment failure in Capsule One. Prime subject, Nora Fries, in danger."_

"Nora, hang on!" Freeze's electronic voice echoed from below, followed by a second blast of chemicals erupting from the burst pipes running across the length of the room. The blast made the structure shudder violently, momentarily throwing Laura off-balance. Her foot slipped, sending her crashing down onto the beam below, the metal fixture catching her directly in the gut, knocking the wind out of her and forcing the sergeant to try very hard not to throw up. She grasped desperately at the beam, trying her best to curl around the hunk of metal so as to not go crashing to the ground below. Gasping for air, the brunette threw a leg over the beam, straddling the metal while she caught her breath. From her perch high above the main floor, she could see Fries on a walkway below, desperately fiddling with some sort of control panel hooked up to a series of screens.

" _Cryogenic containment failing. Prime subject, Nora Fries, in danger."_

As Fries muttered to himself as he worked, a loud crack sounded, and within moments the ice layer underneath the suited man shattered, sending him crashing to the floor below. A moment later, the former scientist came flying out of the bottom of the shattered platform as if he'd been thrown, the Bat following only a fraction of a second later. The vigilante's armored fist came down hard on the glass dome topping Fries' suit, cracking the dome irreparably and sending the scientist to the ground.

"Thanks for doing the heavy lifting, Batman." A voice sounded from above her.

Looking up, Laura found her field of vision blocked by the remaining height of the structure, but she recognized the voice as Boyle's. "But you shouldn't have stuck your nose in my business."

All of a sudden, a blast of chemicals shot out from a broken pipe on the wall towards the two men on the lab's main floor. Wayne gave Fries a hard shove, managing to roll the armored man out of the way, but the blast took the billionaire full-force, encasing the vigilante in a massive hunk of ice. The platform began to descend towards the catwalk below and Laura hurriedly made to follow it, determined to end things before the power-mad industrialist could cause even further damage.

"And here I thought I was going to have a problem explaining what happened in your lab." Boyle continued, oblivious to the figure descending towards the platform. "I mean, the police are never going to look at me after what you did! And with this bat-freak dead, there won't be anyone left to say otherwise."

The platform landed in its original slot, clicking into place adjacent to the catwalk. Fries, though clearly too weak to do much of anything, still desperately crawled towards Boyle and the containment pod containing his wife.

"Nora…" Fries gasped weakly, lifting a hand towards her pod before slumping over, the warming temperature of the room taking its toll.

"And that just leaves you." Boyle concluded, gesturing towards his former employee with both hands outstretched.

"Please…" The scientist pleaded, "You can save her. You just have to bypass the-"

"No, Victor, she dies!" Boyle interrupted, yanking a small metal rod off of Fries' suit and bringing it crashing down on the man again and again. "But I'll keep you alive just long enough to see her go!"

Consumed with beating the man who had so humiliated him, the industrialist didn't see the small figure land noisily on the opposite end of the platform. In fact, he was so engrossed in his revenge, that Ferris Boyle didn't even notice as the figure reached to its side, pulled out a small 9mm handgun, and leveled the barrel at his chest. He didn't notice at all, not until a gunshot echoed around the room, the sound amplified by the acoustics of the lab, and he felt a force hit him in the chest and throw him back, followed by a searing pain powerful enough to send him collapsing to the ground, clutching desperately at the source of the agony as he tried to staunch the flow of blood seeping between his fingers.

Once Boyle was on the ground, Laura redirected her attention from the billionaire to the failing containment pod, approaching the control panel on the side as the lab's alarms sounded once more.

" _Cryogenic containment failing. Subject termination imminent."_

"How do I fix this?" Laura turned to Freeze, his eyes fixed on the woman contained within the glass.

"The code is ten zero six ninety-four." The man gasped, and Laura hurriedly punched the numbers into the pod's small keypad. The pod made a low whirring sound, almost reminding the sergeant of the sound her apartment's air conditioning made in the hotter days of the summer, and the once-clear glass of the pod glazed over with ice, the temperature within dropping rapidly.

" _Cryogenic containment restored."_

A crack followed by loud, thudding footsteps sounded from behind her and Laura whirled around, only to see a newly-freed Batman shake off the last of his coat of ice and kneel beside Freeze, inserting a small glowing container into a slot on the scientist's suit. Freeze gasped as the temperature controls on his suit came alive, the tubes racing along his torso glowing the same pale blue as the container. Visibly relaxing as the built-in climate controls reasserted the subzero environment needed to maintain life, Fries slumped over in his suit, muttering his wife's name as he slipped into unconsciousness.

-X-

As Fries fell unconscious, Bruce redirected his attention towards the billionaire hunched over a few feet away, muttering curses to himself between harsh gasps. Boyle had managed to get his suit jacket off and was furiously pressing it against the bullet wound in his shoulder, managing for the moment to stem the bleeding.

"You'll pay for that, bitch." The industrialist spat, fixing Anderson with a murderous look. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

The sergeant looked unimpressed. "I imagine I will," She drawled, lazily leaning up against the railing of the platform but keeping her small silver pistol in hand. "Since you're looking at charges for manslaughter, extortion, and two counts of attempted murder."

Boyle paled at that, though whether it was out of fear or from the blood loss Bruce couldn't be sure. Either way, the aging man fell silent, focusing furiously on his makeshift bandage.

Anderson shook her head at the billionaire's easy cowing, turning her attention to him. "You heading out?" She asked, one eyebrow raised in question. "Gordon ought to be here soon, and I know how you like to make a dramatic exit before the cops show up."

"I don't make _dramatic exits_ ," He corrected, moving from his kneeling position to stand to his full height.

"Uh huh," The sergeant smiled, clearly trying to choke back a laugh. "Whatever you say, Bats. Whatever you say."

Completely oblivious to Bruce's scowl, as she couldn't see it through the XE suit's full face mask, the brunette continued.

"In all seriousness though, thanks. Things would have gone pretty badly if you hadn't shown up."

After a beat of silence, Anderson rolled her eyes. "That's the part where you say 'Thank you' and return the compliment."

The vigilante didn't answer, instead wavering for a moment before reaching into his utility belt and fishing out a small earpiece and holding it out for her to take. He'd seen Alfred slip it into one of the belt's compartments when he'd gone back to the Cave for the XE suit and he had been determined to leave it there, but he had to admit, she had a point.

Their teamwork…hadn't been terrible.

Anderson took the earpiece from his hand and examined it, turning it over in her hands.

"You got me a Bluetooth?"

"It's a satellite-linked communications device with a military-grade encryption that will put you into direct contact with me," He told her. "For the next time something like this happens."

Anderson gave him a look of surprise which quickly melted into the most genuine smile he'd ever seen on her face. It made him feel a stir of…something, though he'd never admit to it.

"So a Bat-Comm, then?"

Bruce nearly audibly groaned, the growing unknown feeling quickly giving way to irritation. "Don't call it that."

The sergeant laughed, putting the earpiece in place. "Too late."

Before either of them could say anything further, footsteps sounded from the hallway, doubtlessly the GCPD officers Gordon had sent finally arriving to clean up Boyle and Fries' mess. Anderson turned to look towards the door, the sound catching her off-guard, and the vigilante took the opportunity to make his exit, quickly grappling up to the rafters and pulling himself through the opening of the nearest air vent.

By the time the brunette turned around a few moments later, Bruce had already exited the building and disappeared into the night.

-X-

Laura watched as several officers dragged away the unconscious body of Victor Fries to the awaiting armored transport outside the GothCorp building, the man's dead weight only compounding the already Herculean task of moving his massive suit. The contraption was easily a few hundred pounds, if not more, the hydraulic joints the only reason the scientist had been able to move around with relative ease, though they did little for the men attempting to transport the suit's occupant to Gotham General. Unless Fries woke up and walked himself to the car, which when considering the fact that the suit's ice ray was still operational and would far more likely result in an escape attempt, the men of the GCPD seemed to have no other choice than to try and drag the massive man out of the lab and onto the street below by hand.

As Laura was beginning to wonder why no one had gone for some sort of cart or gurney to transport the man out of the building, someone cleared their throat behind her, catching her attention. Turning around, the sergeant was met with the face of Jim Gordon, which was twisted into a disapproving frown.

"You know, if you want people to stop making you out to be some loose-cannon, one-woman-army, you ought to stop acting like it."

"Believe me, I'd rather I didn't have to." Laura sighed. She'd never liked incurring her mentor's ire, always afraid she would somehow make him feel his trust in her was misplaced. "But I was the only one at Wayne Manor, and I was the only one who knew where Fries was taking Boyle. Like you said, the rest of the force was dealing with riots, and if I didn't do something, no one else was going to."

"No one?" Gordon asked, nodding towards a small metal projectile lying forgotten on the laboratory floor, its likeness that of a bat in flight.

"You would have rather I let the Batman handle things?" She asked, the hint of a challenge in her voice. "Don't think I haven't noticed the Vigilante Task Force is still technically in operation."

"I thought you trusted him?"

"I do," Laura admitted after a slight hesitation, taking a moment to consider her earlier fears of what the masked man would do if he found out she knew who he was by day. "I trust him to save people. I trust him to stop guys like Freeze or Joker or Cobblepot. But I don't know him, and I'm not going to trust him with everything." It would take a lot more than a week of collaboration between the two for her to trust him enough that she didn't feel the need to keep an eye on him, a feeling she had no doubt Wayne shared in turn.

Gordon paused for a moment before nodding, seemingly finding the logic in her words, and turned to survey the damage done to the Diamond District landmark.

"You know what they're calling these guys on the news? Super-villains, like in some Saturday morning cartoon. Somehow, psychotic clowns and ice rays and guys with jetpacks and flamethrowers has become the new normal."

"Could be worse," Laura said lightly, causing the captain to raise an eyebrow at her. "At least in Gotham, our resident do-gooder is just some guy in a bat costume with a bunch of high-tech shit. My buddy in Metropolis says MPD's been getting reports of a guy running around the city in a blue unitard. Apparently, he can fly and shoots lasers out of his eyes."

Gordon was silent for a long moment before responding.

"Well, fuck."


	11. Change is on the Wind

**So I originally intended to get this one out before Christmas, but I had some family issues go on and it just didn't happen. But, it is now done, and I'm drafting the next chapter as we speak. I do apologize for how long it took me to get this one out. I never wanted to be one of those authors that only updates once or twice a year, and I'm going to really try from now on to make updates to this story more frequently, since after _Blackgate_ , it'll be all my own original ideas, which I'm really excited for you guys to see. As always, please review, if only because nothing makes me more motivated to write than seeing your reactions and comments about the story.**

 **P.S. SoraMalfoySlythern, I'm really glad someone got that Superman reference! And yes, I have every intention of Laura being _very_ involved with the Robins' lives when they come around (I've always pictured Laura as the kind of person who wants 5+ kids, which works well with Bruce's orphan-collecting habit). Also, when you called the Robins 'baby birds' I couldn't stop grinning, because I've been toying with the idea of Laura's nickname for Dick Grayson to be 'baby bird'.**

 **P.S.S. In the time since my last update, I kind of accidentally wrote a couple chapters of a _Hobbit_ fanfiction I've had swirling around my head for the last couple years. Would that be something you guys would be interested in reading?**

* * *

" _And now to South Gotham where Vicki Vale brings us this live report."_

The screen flashed from the inside of GNN's main studio to the image of an attractive blonde woman in the bitter winter weather, a line of police cars and the looming figure of the GothCorp building on Miller Street in the background behind her.

" _Thanks, Janine. I'm standing at the corporate headquarters of GothCorp where Captain James Gordon has confirmed that GothCorp CEO, Ferris Boyle, has been taken into police custody. Police report that Mr. Boyle stands accused of manslaughter, extortion, and attempted murder – shocking accusations given that just earlier tonight he accepted the Wayne Foundation's award for Humanitarian of the Year. Also in custody is the notoriously elusive underworld crime boss, Oswald Cobblepot, better known as the Penguin, as well as a GothCorp cryogenecist, Victor Fries. Mr. Fries is being held under heavy guard at Gotham General, receiving treatment for an undisclosed medical condition. Quincy Sharp has suggested that Mr. Fries is yet another example of the type of criminal that needs the specialized care that only Arkham Asylum can provide, a project which he will reportedly be presenting to the city council next week._

" _Police credit these arrests to solid police work, particularly that of the GCPD's up-and-coming star, Sergeant Laura Anderson, but this reporter suspects the vigilante known as the Batman had more than a small role to play. On a personal note, I owe Batman a debt of gratitude for rescuing me from almost certain dea-"_

The screen cut to black as the small television was shut off, cutting off the reporter's grateful words mid-sentence. The room was dead silent for a moment, and Laura reluctantly turned her head to face the men who were, for lack of a better word, interrogating her.

She knew the first man off the bat, having seen the newly-elected District Attorney around the D.A.'s office numerous times when she'd gone to visit Alyssa. The imposing figure of Harvey Dent, bedecked in a crisp white suit, leaned up against the wall twirling a silver coin between his fingers, his handsome face holding none of its usual warmth, instead fixing her with a sort of piercing stare she doubted he used much outside of office hours. The second man she knew by reputation alone, his face and figure wholly unfamiliar to her. Councilman Anthony Garcia, appointed the interim mayor of Gotham by the city council only hours after Hill's resignation, stood next to the television, one hand still resting on the power button, looking at her expectantly.

"So how much of that was bullshit?" The councilman asked, the slightest hint of an accent the only lingering reminder of the man's childhood in Puerto Rico.

"Not much," Laura admitted. "The bit about Boyle is all true, obviously, but she had it right about Batman. If he hadn't shown up, I wouldn't have made it out of Wayne Manor, much less to GothCorp to make any arrests, and even then, _he_ was the one to take down Fries."

Garcia sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"What's your take on him?" Dent asked, eyes still fixed on her like a hawk. "We need to know what we're dealing with, and by all accounts, you've been in contact with him more than anyone else in the GCPD, if not more than anyone else in the city."

"He's…stubborn. Determined. He's not going to stop just because you put the force on his tail, that's for sure."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I would recommend the immediate disbandment of the Vigilante Task Force," Laura said, watching both Dent and Garcia's faces morph into a look of incredulity. "It's a waste of police resources. The Batman is intelligent, highly skilled, and has resources and equipment at his disposal far superior to those of the department, if not the city itself. The only way we would catch him is if he let us, and I don't see that happening."

"So your recommendation is to let some vigilante who dresses up like a bat have free reign across the city to dole out 'justice' whenever and to whomever he chooses?"

"No," The sergeant corrected, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "My recommendation is to stop wasting city resources on a pipe dream. The Batman is here to stay whether we like it or not, and if you haven't noticed, public opinion is turning more and more in his favor. I say we let him do his thing but keep an eye on him. New Year's Eve proved he's willing to work with the police, but if we keep trying to hunt him down like a fugitive, he's not going to be willing for long. We need him where we can keep an eye on him, and the only way that happens is to bring him into the fold."

"The city can't sanction a private citizen going around doling out punishment as part of the justice system." Dent argued.

"Not officially, no." Laura agreed. "But we don't need to give him our seal of approval, we just need to stop actively trying to arrest him. It's not…legal what he does, not really, but we've got bigger fish to fry right now. These super-criminals like Fries and the Joker? They're becoming more and more of a problem, and not just in Gotham. Star City, Central City, and Metropolis have all had a marked increase of crimes committed with highly-advanced weapons tech or by these so-called 'meta-humans' in the last eighteen months, and if they're any indicator, things are only just getting started in Gotham. Not to mention that we still have twenty maximum-security prisoners that escaped Blackgate during the Christmas riot that are still on the loose somewhere in the city, and more than half the police department is suspended and under investigation on corruption charges."

Seeing Garcia's stern expression waver slightly, the sergeant pushed on. "Councilman, we have to be realistic about our situation; we're stretched way too thin to handle everything on our plate, and we have to prioritize. The most dangerous and immediate threats to the city must be dealt with first, and the Batman doesn't even make the list. Until the mass investigations are concluded and we have a better hold over the city, maintaining the Vigilante Task Force is just going to be a pointless drain of resources we can't afford to waste."

Garcia was silent, fiddling with the simple gold band on his left hand as he considered her words. Dent, however, turned to the male figure standing in the corner of the room who had remained wordless since the pseudo-interrogation had begun.

"What do you think, Gordon? You're the acting Commissioner."

"She's not wrong about the drain of resources," The captain replied, weighing his words carefully. "Even with Black Mask and Penguin in jail, gang violence hasn't slowed much, and both violent and petty crime's been up since Christmas Eve. We're stretched too thin to keep up if things get worse, and we could use the extra manpower."

"And the Batman?" Dent pressed.

"He's not a threat to the city," Gordon said firmly. "More a threat to himself than anything else, but not to Gotham. Anderson's got a point, though; if there was a way to keep him close, if only so we could keep an eye on him, it's something we should consider pursuing."

" _You_ are going along with this?" Dent asked disbelievingly. "By-the-book-or-not-at-all James Gordon?"

"Things would have gone…badly, on Christmas Eve if the Batman hadn't intervened," The captain admitted, adjusting his glasses as he did so. "A lot more innocent people would have died. There wouldn't be enough of Pioneers Bridge left standing to repair. We probably wouldn't have been able to stop the Joker at Blackgate as quickly as we did; the riot would have gone on for hours, if not _days_ before we could have gotten it under control. And I believe Anderson when she says the Bat saved people at Wayne Manor and GothCorp. I don't _like_ what the Batman does, I don't _like_ that we need it, but right now, we're not in a position to dictate how we run the city based off what we _like_. Right now, whether we like it or not, having the Batman out on the streets is a necessary evil if we're going to keep order in the city and get the underworld under control."

"I see." Garcia muttered, more to himself than the other three gathered in the room. With a long sigh, the councilman shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"As Acting Mayor, I want to you to, _for now_ , suspend the Vigilante Task Force and reallocate all available resources to wherever is needed," He addressed Gordon, though he still had his eyes squeezed shut as if experiencing a sudden headache. "Our priority right now has to be maintaining order in the city. We'll deal with the Batman…well, we'll deal with him when we get the chance."

Garcia gave one more shake of his head and strode out of the room, muttering something unintelligible under his breath as he did. Laura stood up out of her chair as Dent made to follow, the lawyer pausing in the doorway to give her a stern look.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"That makes two of us." The sergeant retorted, only half joking, though judging from the look that flashed across the district attorney's face, it hadn't been the answer he'd hoped she'd give.

The door to the small office shut behind him with a 'click', leaving Laura and Gordon alone.

"Well, that went better than I thought it would."

The captain gave her a look. "How did you think it was going to go?"

"I thought I was going to get fired," She told him honestly. "Or arrested. Police officers aren't exactly supposed to encourage vigilante justice, after all, much less assist in it. Twice."

"To be fair, there were extenuating circumstances." Gordon said, holding the door for her.

"You weren't wrong though," He continued as the pair made their way through the twisting hallways of City Hall. "Things are getting worse, and I'm not sure the GCPD as it is will be capable of handling criminals like Freeze and the Joker. If we're going to keep up, changes need to be made."

Stepping out into the frigid January air, Gordon turned to face his protégé, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. "Speaking of changes, even with the Task Force on hold, we're still struggling to find those Blackgate escapees. Any chance you know how to get in contact with the Bat?"

Mind flashing back to the small earpiece that was tucked into her jacket pocket, Laura gave a noncommittal shrug.

"I might have an idea."

-XI-

The reconstruction efforts on Wayne Manor were slow-going. While the damage done by the fire Penguin's men had set was minimal thanks to the manor's state-of-the-art fire suppression system, the thugs had riddled much of the ballroom with bullet holes, and both the room's north wall and domed stained-glass ceiling had been destroyed in their entirety. Various trinkets and trophies had seen their fair share of damage as well, from Darius Wayne's taxidermied hunts to a scorched Ruysdael to a shattered Ming vase worth upwards of $1.5 million. Though scores of private contractors had lined up at the chance to rebuild one of Gotham County's most famous buildings (And arguably the most well-known private residence on the Eastern seaboard), even with work teams making round-the-clock repairs, the damage done on New Year's Eve would take months to fix.

Even in the caves far below the manor, Bruce could hear the contractors hauling away rubble and ruined finery. Though he knew logically that the round-the-clock workmen would ultimately speed up the manor's return to normalcy in the long-run, the constant noise emanating from the various worksites throughout the house had begun to take its toll on his already-poor sleep schedule; he hadn't been able to get a decent night's sleep (Even by his already-low standards) in the two weeks since work had begun, and it had begun to show in the progressive degradation of his patience and shortening of his already-poor temper.

Just as he was beginning to seriously consider bunking in the soundproof cockpit of the Batwing for the night, if only to get some peace and quiet, an alert flashed across the screen of the Cave's computer, signaling an incoming transmission. Momentarily confused, as only a handful of people in the world had access to the Cave's comms frequency, he accepted the transmission, waiting silently for the other person to speak.

" _Hello? Batman? You there?"_

"Sergeant Anderson," He replied by way of a greeting, attempting to smother the surprise in his voice. It'd been nearly a month since he'd given her the small communicator on New Year's Eve and he'd received nothing but radio silence on her end. After the first few weeks, he'd assumed she'd rethought her position on collaboration between the two of them and disposed of the device, or possibly turned it over to her higher-ups. And though he'd never admit to it, the thought that she'd simply given the comm up or thrown the device away had an uncomfortable feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that was a little too close to rejection for his comfort.

" _Uh, hi. Sorry to interrupt…whatever you're up to, but I could use a hand, if you've got the time to spare."_

"Is there a problem?" He asked, not sure if the nervousness in her voice was due to some outside source, or the sheer awkwardness of the conversation.

" _Yeah, there is."_ Anderson responded, huffing out a breath. _"Twenty maximum-security prisoners were able to escape from Blackgate during the Christmas riots, and in the time since, they've gone underground. Half the force is on suspension, and the other half is having trouble just keeping order on the streets, so we can't spare the resources to track them down ourselves, and the state's not sending us any troopers or marshals to help out. These guys have been running around the city completely unchecked for the last three weeks doing God-knows-what, and there's not a damn thing the police can do about it. Any chance you could lend a hand?"_

"I'll need a little more information to go on if I'm going to track them down."

" _I've already downloaded their GCPD profiles and all relevant data off the National Criminal Database onto a drive for you,"_ She told him. _"All you have to do is come pick it up. Will tonight work? Midnight, on the roof of the Wintermere apartment building in the Bowery?"_

"I'll be there." Bruce confirmed, severing the connection before Anderson could get in another word. Letting out a sigh and standing up from his seat in front of the Cave's computer, the billionaire headed towards the looming figure of the Batwing resting on a suspended platform for a few hours of much-needed rest.

He could already tell, it was going to be a long night.

-XI-

" _Any luck with our mysterious friend?"_

"He agreed to help," Anderson spoke into the microphone on her cell phone, pacing around the small living room of her apartment. "He's coming to pick up the drive tonight."

" _Good."_ Gordon replied in a pleased tone. _"We need all the help we can get with this one."_

"Hopefully there'll still be a GCPD left to arrest them by the time he gets back to us," She murmured more to herself than to Gordon, heading to the kitchen to put on a pot of water for tea, if only to prevent herself from wearing a hole in the carpet.

" _Optimistic as ever, Anderson."_

"Honestly Jim? I'm not even sure I'm kidding." She sighed, leaning against the countertop. "When we got back to the prescient, I took a look at the books, and we're even worse off than I thought. A month ago, we had nearly thirty-seven thousand officers on the roster, and this week we've got barely fifteen thousand. Anyone from SWAT who wasn't arrested raided the armory before they jumped ship, and we've got almost no riot gear left, and most of our serious firepower is gone. Nashton accessing our systems has put Cyber Crimes into a complete halt, and there's no telling when IA is going to let them get back to work. It's going to take thousands of hours and millions of dollars to get everything back in order, and we've got no way to get that, especially since most of Gotham's foaming at the mouth in rage and we're down the mayor and most of the city council. Jim, if there's another attack, or a crime spree, or riots, they're going to have to call in the National Guard because we're not going to be able to hold the city. We're in a bad way, and I'm not sure how we're going to make it out."

There was a long pause before Gordon answered. _"I don't know either, kid. At this point, we've just got to put one foot in front of the other, and pray things turn out all right. That's all we've got left."_

-XI-

The Wintermere building was one of the nicer apartment buildings in the Bowery, located only a few blocks from Jezebel Plaza, and as such, was one of the few places left in that section of the city that housed Gotham's upper middle class. The building itself wasn't particularly special, its red brick exterior, stone trim, and rounded arched Romanesque windows typical of many such buildings built in Gotham at the tail end of the 19th century. The building had since seen its interior remodeled since its initial construction, refit for the modern world and the people in it, but its varying owners had kept the building's outside almost perfectly intact, the place's old-world charm and beauty retained from when it first opened its doors so many years ago.

It was also an odd place for an information drop-off, Bruce thought to himself as he peered at the snow-covered rooftop from a gargoyle on the adjacent tenement, waiting for Anderson to appear. He'd shown up nearly an hour early himself, not entirely convinced it wasn't a trap, scouting out the area for GCPD officers or federal agents hidden in the surrounding buildings. His search had turned up nothing, however, convincing him that Anderson's offer was genuine, and she'd merely chosen the odd location as a matter of convenience; the file Alfred had compiled on her had indicated she lived on the building's twelfth floor.

At five to midnight the door leading into the building's interior creaked open, a feminine figure in a thick woolen coat slipping out into the night. He didn't even need to check his binoculars to see that it was clearly Anderson; the proud way the woman held herself, head high and shoulders back, was unmistakable, even as she curled slightly into herself to keep the cold at bay. He launched himself off the gargoyle and glided to the apartment building's rooftop, landing near-silently behind the brunette with only the faintest crunch of snow to signal his arrival.

"Sergeant Anderson." He said by way of a greeting, causing her to jump and spin around, her hand reflexively going to the sidearm he could see faintly outlined under her thick coat.

"Do you have to do _that_ every time you make an entrance?" She asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Sneaking up behind someone in this city is an easy way to get yourself shot."

"You had something for me?" He asked, ignoring her complaints. Anderson shot him a dirty look but obliged, fishing a small flash drive from her coat pocket. Bruce took it from her, quickly checking the small device over for trackers or bugs, and placed in in one of the compartments of his utility belt.

"What am I looking at?"

"Murderers, armed robbers, arsonists, and a couple hitmen. Nothing you haven't brought in before." Anderson read off, shoving her hands in her pockets.

Bruce nodded, turning his back and making for the edge of the rooftop. "I'll let you know when I find anything."

"Hey, hang on!" The sergeant shouted from behind him, and Bruce could hear the snow crunch as she made a few steps towards his retreating figure. "There was one more thing."

Turning to face her, Bruce saw uncertainty flicker across the brunette's face, if only for a moment, before continuing.

"Jim, that is, Captain Gordon and I got called into Councilman Garcia's office this morning. He and District Attorney Dent wanted to know what we knew about you, and what happened on New Year's Eve."

When he didn't respond, the sergeant continued. "They've agreed to temporarily disband the Vigilante Task Force, so you won't have to worry about the GCPD on your tail. At least, not for a while."

"You convinced the acting mayor and the district attorney to disband the Vigilante Task Force?" He asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"You extended the olive branch on New Year's Eve," She pulled her dark hair back from where it hung loose around her face, revealing the small earpiece he'd given her three weeks ago by way of an explanation. He hadn't noticed she'd been wearing it. "Figured we should at least try and meet you halfway."

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to her revelation, but he was spared from having to formulate what would have surely been a stilted, awkward response by a crash sounding from the alleyway below. Though it was likely nothing more than a stray cat knocking over a garbage can, Anderson still made her way to the edge of the building anyways, peering suspiciously down into the darkness. Seizing his chance, Bruce detached the grappling gun from his belt and fired, hurtling himself through the cold night air and onto an outcropping of one of the nearby buildings. From his perch high above, he saw Anderson turn back to the rooftop, the alleyway commotion apparently mundane, her dark hair whipping around her face as she rapidly scanned the rooftop for his now-absent form. Realizing he was now long gone, the sergeant pulled her coat tighter around herself and hurried towards the door leading to the building's interior, eager to escape the bitter wind.

The radio in his cowl crackled to life, the unexpected sound startling him from his thoughts and nearly causing him to tip off the outcropping and into the night air below.

" _Did all go well at the meeting with Sergeant Anderson, sir?"_

"Yes, I've got the drive." He responded, silently chiding himself for his lapse in awareness.

" _Excellent. The quicker those men are taken off the streets, the better."_

Bruce made a noise of affirmation, only half-listening to the Englishman. His thoughts were more focused on the brunette who'd returned to her apartment, her silhouette only slightly discernable through the curtains drawn over her window. She knew she didn't have to pull strings on his behalf, didn't she? That his help wasn't conditional? It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her efforts on his behalf, far from it, in fact, but nonetheless it wasn't necessary. He hadn't given Anderson the earpiece or agreed to help the GCPD with the expectation of repayment, or even that they'd stop hunting him. If anything, he'd expected their efforts with the Vigilante Task Force to ramp up after Christmas Eve, if only because he'd now become so public a figure in Gotham.

And yet she'd still gone out of her way to help him, most likely risking her job to do so. While the police department was slowly but surely purging its crooked cops, the city administration and mayor's office was still rife with corruption, and though Councilman Garcia didn't seem like he'd followed the same path as his predecessors, there was no way to know for sure. District Attorney Dent wasn't on anyone's payroll, _that_ Bruce knew for sure, but the man was known for doing things by-the-book, and the vigilante doubted he'd take well to a member of the police force all-but-assisting vigilante justice and wouldn't put it past the man to encourage a "career change" for such an individual.

Bruce knew Anderson wasn't a stupid woman, no matter how reckless she might sometimes seem, and he had no doubt the sergeant had considered all of this before making her case to the city administrators. What puzzled him perhaps, then, was _why_ she'd done what she had. It wasn't as if she owed him anything, and, though he loathed to admit it, after the incident at GothCorp, _he_ was the one who probably owed _her_. They weren't even colleagues, much less friends, so why had she gone so far on his behalf?

 _Perhaps,_ the annoying little voice in his head crooned, _that's exactly what she wants to change._

" _Sir? Sir, are you still there?"_

"Yes, Alfred, I'm still here." The billionaire said, snapping out of his reverie. He'd been so consumed with his debate about Anderson, he'd tuned the butler out completely.

" _Good. When you didn't answer, I began to worry something had happened. As I was saying, if you plan to get a start on those escapees tonight, you'd best hurry back to the Cave to upload the data. Your suit's onboard computer doesn't have anything on it to process a flash drive."_

"I'll be there in a bit." Bruce replied, severing the connection and activating the signal to summon the Batwing. The black jet appeared overhead in moments, the vigilante quickly grappling up into the cockpit before the roar of the vehicle's engine could draw any unwanted attention. Situating himself in the pilot's seat, he brought the vehicle out of hover-mode and engaged the thrust, turning the jet away from Gotham proper and towards the mountains of Bristol County.

Too busy piloting the Batwing, Bruce didn't notice the object of his thoughts peering out of her window, a slight smile on her face as she watched the black jet disappear into the night.


	12. Bats, Cats, and Prison Rats

**And we've finally gotten to _Arkham Origins: Blackgate!_ I admit, planning this one was a little more difficult than with the main _Origins_ game, mainly because _Blackgate_ was a 3DS/PS Vita exclusive, and I'm pretty much a console-only gamer, so I had to learn the story for the first time watching walkthroughs while planning out the _Blackgate_ chapters. But, it's going pretty well so far, and I'm eager to get it out there so we can get into the original material I've got planned for later in this story. As always, thank you for your continued support, and please leave reviews, because there's really nothing in this world that motivates me to write more than hearing your comments. Thank you so much guys, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **P.S. I'm not sure if I've asked this before, but what do you guys think of the DC live-action films? Everyone I know is way more into Marvel, and I'd love to hear your takes on them!**

 **Shockeye7665: I don't know if you saw my message, but I really appreciate the review you left and your kind words about Laura and her place in the Arkhamverse. I'd love to hear more of your opinion!**

 **GothamFan52: Thank you so much for your review! As for whether or not I'm sticking to the Arkhamverse, I'm certainly going to try, but there's so much missing from the greater DC universe within the Arkham games, I'm going to have to draw from other sources. I AM planning on at the very least alluding to Batman's extended circle if not outright featuring them farther along in the story (And you did guess a few of them, so good on you!), but any bigger roles they'd play would likely be in a sequel story/stories rather than this one, since I DO have to end this one sometime in the timeline leading up to _Arkham Asylum_. As for superhero teams forming, I do have some plans to incorporate the Justice League into this universe (Though whether or not it will be in this particular segment of that universe I still haven't decided on), but they'll hardly be the only ones out there. I'll probably end up alluding to/featuring the Birds of Prey or the Teen Titans at some point as well, since members of the Bat Family do play a core role in both of those teams. And as you fantastically suggested, I absolutely have plans to bring in the Court of Owls further along in the story, so keep an eye out!**

* * *

Gotham's weather was an unexplained phenomenon that had baffled meteorologists for centuries. While only a few miles up the coast, millions of tourists flocked to the sunny beaches of Atlantic City every year, and across the bay the sunshine and clear skies above Metropolis were nigh immutable, the climate of Gotham City always seemed to inspire gloom. Its winters were characterized by constant ice and bitter winds, and its summers dominated by overcast skies that always threatened rain. The official explanation was that it was simply a mixture of winds and a meeting of fronts creating the bizarre phenomenon, no more unnatural than Commonwealth Bay or Tornado Alley, but many of the city's denizens were not so easily convinced; it wasn't uncommon to hear muttering by longtime Gothamites that the ominous weather was a symptom of something darker, that the very earth itself beneath the city's foundations was cursed.

It was amidst that dreary weather that Bruce found himself perched on a rooftop and peering out into the night, fighting to suppress a shudder from the frigid rain. Though the advent of spring was only a week away there was no warmth to the season, and he knew there likely wouldn't be for several weeks to come. The shattering of glass caught his attention, and, upon searching for the source of the sound, spotted its origin on the next building over. A small hole, no more than two feet in diameter, had been cut into one of the building's windows, the discarded circle of glass allowed to slip from its frame and crash into the alleyway below. A heel-clad foot emerged from the hole followed by its twin, and before long, a slim body bedecked in some sort of skintight suit slithered out of the opening, the feminine figure's face obscured by a pair of thick red-tinted goggles. The woman scurried up the side of the building with surprising agility, pausing only once she'd gotten to the rooftop to insert a flash drive into a small handheld device. Bruce quickly launched himself off his own rooftop and landed a few feet from the woman, his cape billowing around him in the wind.

"I don't know who you're supposed to be, but in case you didn't notice, this building's business hours are over."

"Oh, I noticed, and my business never sleeps. I'm nocturnal." The woman quipped, her mouth curling into a smirk. She sauntered over to him, circling him like a predator assessing its prey, oozing confidence with every step. "Tell me you're not this place's overdressed security guard."

"I just go where the crime is," He answered, eyes following the woman's every move. He was well-aware of his reputation in the underworld, and for her to act so nonchalant about their meeting, she either had to be incredibly stupid or very dangerous.

He was betting on the latter.

"You sure you want to cut this so short?" She asked, trailing one finger down the length of his arm as she made another pass. "You haven't even heard me purr yet."

"You won't be purring once you're in prison."

Suddenly, both of their figures alighted with red dots, Bruce turning to see a handful of well-armed men swarming onto the rooftop, their laser-sighted pistols trained on the pair of them. The vigilante silently cursed his lapse in awareness, his hyper focus on the woman allowing the men the perfect opportunity to sneak up on him.

"Target has the package. D.E.O. security squad Omega in response." One of the men said into a small earpiece, taking a step forward.

"I'm handling this," Bruce warned.

"You're on private property," The squad leader retorted, "Interfering with private business."

"We were just leaving," Bruce snapped, disarming the man with a flick of his hand.

He turned back to face the woman, only to be met with the sight of her retreating figure, agilely leaping across rooftops as she made her escape.

"Munitions team, secure the package. The rest of you, Batman is not to leave this rooftop!"

 _Good luck with that,_ Bruce thought to himself wryly as he leapt into action, easily disarming the remaining men and leaving them unconscious. As the last man fell to the ground, the vigilante aimed his grappling gun at the adjacent building and fired, knowing that if he were going to catch up to the mysterious woman, he'd have to be quick. She already had too much of a lead.

By some small mercy it didn't take long to find the thief, having perched herself at the top of a building still under construction, the small handheld device she'd been using when their encounter first begun once again in her hand. Bruce grappled up the roof of the building and made a grab for her, which the woman easily dodged. It mattered little, however, as she'd effectively trapped herself between the vigilante and a fifty-story drop without hope of escape.

"This ends here."

"What kind of girl do you think I am?" She asked with feigned innocence, slipping into a fighting stance. "Because chances are, you're right."

The woman launched herself at him, forcing the vigilante to dodge the lethal claws attached to the fingertips of her gloves. She was fast and clearly skilled, but Bruce had honed himself into a veritable one-man army, and soon enough he'd found an opening in her guard, slamming a heavy-booted foot into her chest and sending her sailing into an exposed girder, the woman's head smacking against the metal with a dull thud.

"What a lousy way to end a first date," She grinned, slightly dazed from the impact. "I'd hoped you were a gentleman."

"I _was_ being gentle. Now tell me what you took."

"Just some files, and I've already used this to send them to my employer." The woman held out the device and flash drive, letting them slip between her fingers and plunge into the darkness below.

"You tell me what was on the files, and I'll see about shortening your sentence."

"You know what they say about snitches and stitches," She purred. "And besides, what's in those files isn't my business. _My_ business is stealing them."

Before he could respond, the rooftop was suddenly flooded with light and the thrumming of a helicopter's blades filled the air.

" _Gotham City Police! Keep your hands where I can see them."_

Knowing they wouldn't pursue, Bruce quickly launched himself off the side of the building before the first of the police's trio of choppers could land, snapping his cape open to catch the wind and glide through the night air. While the cat burglar would soon enough be in the police's custody, there was still plenty of work ahead of him. With the handheld device and flash drive now destroyed, the task of tracking down the thief's employer was now that much more difficult, as was figuring out what they'd stolen. For that matter, he'd never heard of this so-called D.E.O. before, and though the name invoked the image of one of the many alphabet agencies littering D.C., he was sure no such agency was to be found. At least, not officially anyway.

With more questions than answers filling his mind, Bruce glided towards a nearby rooftop just as one unlucky burglar tried his luck at an apartment window's lock, too absorbed in his task to notice the cloaked figure descending towards him.

-XII-

Laura was elbow-deep in logistics reports when McKenzie waltzed into her office, leaning one hip against the edge of her desk and looking down at her with a shit-eating grin.

"So, Montoya showed me the most _interesting_ article in _The Gotham Insider_ today."

The brunette didn't bother to look up from her work. "Why do I feel like I'm going to have to shoot you?"

The detective pulled out the glossy magazine previously hidden behind his back, flipping through the pages until he arrived at the desired article, grinning as he began to read it aloud.

" _Celebrity event planner and notable socialite Silver St. Cloud was sighted this Saturday evening at the highly-exclusive Lux nightclub in Gotham City's Diamond District. In a surprising turn of events that's left tongues wagging, she was joined by Gotham's own resident hero-cop, Sergeant Laura Anderson, with the two women seen laughing and enjoying drinks at the bar. Never sighted together before, we're left to wonder if this is simply a case of newfound friends hitting the town, or if something more is blooming between the two Gothamite beauties."_

McKenzie grinned at the scowl on her face, rolling up the magazine and tapping her desk with it. "Just try not to forget us wage slaves when you're off sipping martinis at water polo matches. I'd ask you to still join us for drinks at Cherry's, but I wouldn't want to dim that upper-class aura of yours."

"One," Laura started, ticking off the number with a flick of her fingers. "I am _not_ dating Silver St. Cloud. I helped get her out of Wayne Manor on New Year's Eve and she invited me out for drinks as a thank-you. That's all. Two, I don't even know what water polo _is_ , so don't pull that silver-spoon bullshit with me. And three, the next time you come in here with some mind-numbing garbage written by some hack with a journalism degree, keep in mind that I _can_ fire you."

"How'll I know if they're a hack?" The detective asked, absentmindedly tapping the rolled-up magazine against his knee.

"Everyone with a journalism degree is a hack."

Ben let out a laugh, smiling to himself before he turned to her thoughtfully. "So, the _other_ rumor's true, then?"

Laura stilled, eyeing the blonde suspiciously. "What other rumor?"

She felt her heart drop into her stomach as the most smug grin she'd ever seen spread across McKenzie's face.

"Oh, nothing big, really. Just that you're dating the Batman."

-XII-

Jim Gordon peered through the lenses of his binoculars at the carnage just across the bay.

Blackgate Prison, its repairs from the Christmas riots finished only three weeks previous, was engulfed in flames, the thick column of smoke emanating from the penitentiary visible from the opposite side of Gotham Bay even without the use of binoculars. The cause of the fire was, for the moment, unknown, the only clue pointing to its origin being a panicked phone call from one of the prison's staff, the man babbling about an explosion before cutting off abruptly with a bloodcurdling scream. As acting commissioner he'd been notified immediately, but one look at the destruction unfolding within the prison's walls, and the captain knew that if he sent his men in there, as understaffed as they were, none of them would be coming out alive. The best he could do, he knew, was to notify the governor to send the National Guard, send some men to line the perimeter to keep the inmates from escaping, and pray that help came along soon.

"You're going to need a better way to get my attention, Gordon. I just happened to be listening to the police band."

Gordon attempted not to flinch at the vigilante's sudden appearance, his presence nearly a physical force at his back. He'd thought to ask Laura, of course, knowing the woman had some way of getting into contact with the Bat she'd neglectedto tell him about, but when he'd stopped by her office and found her with her head in her hands, a gaggle of snickering detectives just outside her door, he'd thought it better just to leave her be. He wasn't so ignorant to believe the vigilante wasn't monitoring the GCPD's radio calls, and once he put out the word that there was yet another incident at Blackgate, Gordon knew it would only be a matter of time before the Batman made an appearance.

"I'm sure we'll think of something," He deadpanned. "Maybe if you gave us your cell number?"

"What do we know?"

"There was an explosion at Blackgate about six hours ago." Gordon nodded towards the burning facility. "They think maybe an escape attempt went bad."

"And the inmates took advantage and overran the guards." Batman finished, stepping forward to stand next to Gordon.

"Afraid so. They're in a standoff with my men positioned outside the prison gates."

"Hostages?"

Jim sighed. "The entire prison staff."

"Blackgate. Seems like we were just there." The vigilante shook his head.

"You don't have to tell me." The captain sighed, running a hand through his hair, the red strands flecked with gray.

"I'll approach the prison from the river side," Batman decided after a moment.

"That side's impregnable. Practically a sheer wall down to the water." Gordon argued, frowning at the man at his side. He should know, after all; He'd chased the vigilante off that very same side of the prison in his arrest attempt during the first Christmas riot.

When that didn't garner a response, the captain sighed. "Batman, they're all in there, from petty thieves to the worst of the worst, and almost every one has a grudge against you."

"Then they're about to get their shot."

With that, the Bat hurled himself off the side of the building, his cape snapping open to catch the wind and carrying him across the air towards the burning penitentiary. Between the pelting rain and the churning waters of Gotham Bay, Gordon lost sight of the man within moments. Sighing to himself, the captain headed back into the warmth of the precinct. He should have known that there'd be no dissuading the vigilante once he'd committed to a plan of action; The man acted like a one-man-army, as if he was the city's last line of defense and was the only one willing and able to step up and protect its' citizens.

No wonder he and Laura got along so well.

Jim made his way downstairs, the path to his chosen destination so committed to memory from the dozens of other times he'd made the trip, he could have found his way blind. Making his way through the bullpen, he stepped into his protégé's office, the brunette finally out of whatever slump she'd been in and now burying herself in paperwork.

"Get your coat and let's go. We've got work to do."

Frowning in confusion, Anderson nonetheless shrugged on the woolen coat draped across the back of her chair, following him out of her office and into the bullpen. "What's going on?"

"Your boyfriend's about to get himself in trouble."

He was barely able to suppress a smile at Laura's reddening face and Ben McKenzie's howl of laughter at their backs.

-XII-

"How 'bout giving a girl a break, fellas? I'm just trying to get outta here."

Bruce peered over the wall separating the cell blocks, following the sound of voices echoing up from below his perch. Casually leaning against the prison yard's gate was the cat burglar from two weeks before, somehow once again clad in her gear and surrounded by three heavily-muscled thugs. Each was clad in a makeshift uniform, one from each of the big-name crime bosses that he'd put away on Christmas Eve, and the three were bickering amongst themselves, completely unobservant of both the woman's calculated air of ease and the caped vigilante situated only feet over their heads.

"Our boss wants a word with you."

"I don't think so, buddy, she's mine."

"Well why would anyone need little old me?" The thief asked, feigning innocence.

"Doesn't matter to me lady, I just got orders, and that's that." One of the thugs shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down the other two, raising himself to his full height.

Bruce launched himself off the top of the wall, gliding down towards the gathered quartet and slamming boots-first into Sionis' man, sending him flying across the courtyard. The other two were dispatched quickly, soon enough leaving only himself and the woman who'd given him such a headache two weeks ago.

"How did you get so popular? Besides the obvious."

"Hey, when things went boom, I was just gonna grab my suit and find a way outta here," She said defensively. "Things are getting too intense for a sweet little thief like me. But then they jumped me, each trying to keep me from joining the others' side."

"What do you mean, 'side'?" He asked.

The woman shrugged nonchalantly, tucking away a strand of hair that'd come loose from under her helmet. "All the heavy hitters hate each other, especially Black Mask and the Joker. They've all staked out their own territories inside the prison. The way I hear it, Penguin has the cell blocks and controls movement around Blackgate; He locked all the staff in a cell on Blackgate's lowest level, the Arkham Wing. Black Mask's taken charge of the prison's Industrial Complex; He decides where there's power, and where there isn't. And the Joker's holding down the Administration building, which has the computers to encrypt the codes for the locks on the Arkham cells."

"Here's the bad news," She drawled, circling him like a predator preparing for the kill. "To get to the hostages, someone has to go to the Industrial Complex to restore power to the Arkham Wing, get through the cell blocks to get down there, _and_ have the Crypto-Sequencer that unlocks the hostages' cell."

Bruce nearly groaned. "This is shaping up to be a long night."

"So let's spend it together."

He fixed her with a hard stare. "Excuse me?"

She shot him what he assumed she thought to be a charming smile. "I can work the bad guys from the inside and feed you information as you work your way through the prison."

"You're a criminal," He said sternly. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I have an incentive." She purred, smiling.

"What do you want?"

"What you promised me to begin with." The thief pulled the pair of red goggles resting atop her head over her face, looking up at him through the tinted lenses. "You can help get me somewhere less dangerous where I can serve out a shorter sentence."

"You mean some place easier to escape from." He said flatly, easily picking up her meaning.

"You think I want to see those innocent people down there hurt?" She snapped. "I'm just a thief, not a psychopathic murderer like everyone else in here! But if you don't want my help, I'll be on my way, and you can take your chances alone."

"Wait," He warned, halting the woman's retreat towards the yard's exit. "No tricks."

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, a smug smile on her face. "For you, only treats. You gonna be able to find your way around okay?"

"I've got it covered."

She winked, grabbing his wrist and dropped a small earpiece into the center of his palm. "I'll be in touch."

Before he could get in another word, the woman disappeared down a hall leading further into the prison, leaving Bruce with the lingering feeling like he'd made a mistake. With a slight shake of his head, the vigilante pressed a small button on his utility belt, the roar of the Batwing's engine sounding from overhead within minutes. After a few moments, the holographic display on his gauntlet came to life with a flash of blue light, a 3-D model of the prison appearing over his raised forearm, with a small warning flashing above it.

 _Structure has multiple stress areas and weakened iron supports throughout. Approximately 1,400 life forms detected, 1,100 of them hostile._

With a sigh that sounded only _slightly_ defeated, Bruce turned and headed towards the building the map had indicated was Blackgate's Industrial Complex.

-XII-

"As you can see, there've been some unexpected developments."

Captain Rick Flag shook his head at the analyst's assessment of the situation, glaring at the image displayed across the Director's screen. 'Unexpected development'? No, this had turned into nothing short of an unmitigated disaster. The situation at Blackgate had been risky to begin with, they'd all known that, what with an unpredictable element like the Joker involved, but risks could be minimized, outcomes accounted for; That was all just a matter of planning and preparation. But this? Some vigilante showing up out of the blue and inserting himself into a prison riot turned three-way turf war between Gotham's biggest crime bosses? _That_ hadn't been planned for, and now everything was on the line.

"There's too much risk of our exposure." He argued. "You need to pull the plug."

"I make the decisions on this op, and I say we keep going." The Director said firmly, shooting him a stern look. "There's something to be gained here."

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Flag gave a stiff salute and exited the office, the young data analyst staying behind to answer the Director's stream of questions. The soldier made his way down the halls of the facility, his long stride carrying him to the large wall of windows that overlooked Gotham Bay. From here, he could just make out the dim orange light that were the flames currently engulfing Gotham County's largest penitentiary, the heavy rain doing little to stem the fire's spread. The bay's waters were no more calm than the skies, the waves slamming into the rocks that lined the shore with enough force that he half-expected the entire facility to be loosed from its foundations and go sliding off the cliff face into the churning waters below. The scene was gloomy, miserable, and oppressively foreboding, the very embodiment of everything he'd come to associate with Gotham City.

As Flag stared out into the stormy night, he briefly considered taking charge of the op himself before quickly dismissing the thought. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd had to improvise and seize control of a mission gone wrong when the desk jockeys back at HQ bit off more than they could chew, but he'd been careful to toe the line since his reassignment to the Director's command. The worst the Army could do was court martial him and send him somewhere he'd never again see the light of day, but that'd be nothing compared to the consequences he'd face now; He'd heard rumors about the fates of men who'd decided to go behind the Director's back, the unspeakable punishments that followed even perceived betrayals, and though he'd never been the type to put much faith in gossip, he had no doubt every muttered word and terrified whisper were completely true, and comprised not even half of the abominable acts under his commanding officer's belt. No, for now, Flag was in her good graces, as good as they were going to get, at least, and he intended on staying there.

After all, he was no fool, and only an utter madman tempted fate when it came to Amanda Waller.


End file.
